


Burn (With a Wave of My Hand)

by Princess_Aleera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consensual adult sibling incest, Drunken Confessions, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Loss of Powers, M/M, Mind Control, Multiple resurrections, Poisoning, Porn, Redemption, Sacrifice, Secret Identity, Self-harm (brief), Smoking, Soul cuddling, Soul meta, Suicidal thoughts (brief), Violence, Winged Castiel, all of the meta, multiple character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Aleera/pseuds/Princess_Aleera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world with masks, capes and supernatural abilities, Hunters are still fighting Demons. In the middle stands the 'Righteous Man', Dean Winchester, one of few people dealing with both sides. His story is well-known; a powerful brother lost years ago to the Rubies. But when an Angel - the most famous superhero family in the world - suffers the same fate as Sam once did, Dean is forced to make new allies and rip open old wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a finished and beta'ed work written for Debriel MiniBang at LJ in 2011. I will upload it chapter by chapter and go through it to weed out mistakes and inconsistencies as I go. I should update a chapter at least once a day.
> 
> Beta'd by AuntMo9 and Tawg.
> 
> TW: There is an instance in this chapter that can be read as dub-con/non-con (sexual content where a participant is unable to give consent). It's very brief and right at the end of the chapter.

Castiel shrugged out of his clothes and dropped them in the laundry basket, before stripping completely bare and stepping into the shower. He set the water on too-hot, hissing as it scorched his back, scrubbing himself clean. His wings drooped, heavy with water and matted with blood. They weren’t fractured, but the feathers were mangled and outright missing in clumps here and there. A small grunt of pain escaped him as his fingers ghosted over the hole between his ribs, feeling blood seep out. The wound was big enough that he could fit a finger in there, and judging by the gurgling sound he was making, not to mention he could hardly breathe and kept coughing up blood, the bullet had punctured one of his lungs.

 _I'm dying,_ he thought grimly, and laughed. That triggered another coughing fit, but the red stains were quickly washed away by the hot spray of water. Gritting his teeth, bracing himself, Castiel pressed one of his fingers into the wound. He howled with pain as it shot through him, worse than the actual shot, and his knees buckled. He was hunched over, his breathing ragged, his wings shielding him from the spray of water as he forced the finger deeper anyway. The running water washed away the blood and tears, and he sobbed with pain. When he finally felt something hard at the tip of his fingers, he gagged, but kept going. He tried to get the bullet out, but it was impossible. It was too slick with Castiel’s blood, and the painful fumbling only caused it to be pushed deeper into his body.

Cursing breathlessly, Castiel got out of the tub and crawled over to the sink, dripping red-stained water all over the bathroom floor. He managed to get up on his feet so he could get a pair of tweezers from the medical cabinet, and then he staggered back and collapsed into the bathtub. He hurt his shins and knees, but the pain barely registered over the one on his chest. He knew he had to work quickly; already his vision was swimming, his whole body shaking with the blood loss. He retched as he pulled the bullet out, slowly, and it made a sharp ping as it hit the bottom of the bath tub.

Heaving and trembling, Castiel finally slumped and fell over. The shower spray hit him directly in the face, the warm water preventing him from falling asleep and bleeding to death. With one last breath, he pressed his palm against the wound and waited.

~*~

The door slammed open and Castiel woke with a yelp. The water was almost cold, and he tried to reach up to shut it off, but his limbs refused to cooperate.

"Castiel?"

He grunted in reply, the only sound he was able to make.

The door opened. "You're a bloody idiot, you know that?"

Castiel sent his brother a grim smile and coughed again. "Least I'm not dead," he gritted out. His voice felt - and sounded - like he'd chewed gravel.

"Not funny." Balthazar shut off the water and leaned down to inspect the wound. "You did good," he murmured. "It's almost stopped bleeding already."

Castiel nodded.

"Who was it this time?"

"The Rubies."

Balthazar whistled. "All three of them? It's a wonder you're not dead."

"I know."

"And you weren't... infected?" Now Balthazar looked truly anxious.

"No," Castiel lied through his teeth.

His boyfriend pressed his palms against Castiel's wound and closed his eyes, and the wounded man let him work in peace. Slowly, but surely, the pain receded. After fifteen minutes, it was gone. "Thank you," Castiel said with feeling and sat up. It was only now it occurred to him that he was stark naked, something that Balthazar seemed to notice as well. "Give me a towel, will you?"

The blond man nodded and handed him one, not without giving his body a last, appreciative glance. Castiel rolled his eyes, even as his wings twitched with interest. "Not tonight, you idiot."

"Of course not, Cas. I'm not brainless." Balthazar helped him out, strong arms keeping Castiel upright. He was dragged into the bedroom and pushed onto the double bed, where he wriggled himself under the covers.

"Tired," Castiel murmured. Healing always took a toll on him, and with the initial blood loss he didn't have much energy to spare. Although Balthazar had healed the injuries completely, he could do nothing about the fatigue.

"I know, baby. I just need to double-check I got it all. Are you certain you're not in any pain?"

Now that he was free of the blinding pain in his chest, Castiel sensed the throbbing in his left hand. "Broke a finger," he murmured. “And they tore some feathers out.”

Balthazar sighed and started checking over his fingers, one by one. Castiel whimpered a little when he found the broken one, and the other man muttered a few soothing phrases as he curled his own fingers around it. It took only a minute before the finger was healed, and then Balthazar slid under the covers and let Castiel curl around him as he started cleaning his wings.

Castiel sighed contentedly under the care, feeling Balthazar’s hands stroke gently through the soft down. "How was work?" he asked, genuinely curious, and Balthazar laughed.

~*~

As soon as the guy had pulled out a cigarette, Dean strode over to him. The alley was dark, the entrance to the shady bondage club next door vacant at the moment.

"Got a cig?" Dean asked, and the other man's lips turned into an amused smile at the code word before he pulled out another cigarette.

"Where is it?"

"Container at the docks. Serial number 22381." Dean paused before slipping a hand into his pocket and producing a tiny key. "Use this in the second lock."

"What about the first one?"

"I dunno. Break it?"

The other man laughed and gave him a brown paper bag. "Thanks, Righteous."

Dean peeked into the bag, silently counting the five thousand dollars there. "No problem, Hunter."

With a nod, the other man turned and left. Dean stared after him for a while, then tucked the paper bag under his leather jacket. He drew hand through his long, black mane of hair; hair that matched his borrowed height and build. As soon as he was out of sight from the street lamps, he closed his eyes and Shifted, feeling the false appearance slip off and leave his own behind, and headed home.

The tiny apartment was cold and dark, and Dean cursed under his breath when he realized he'd forgotten to turn on the heat before he left for work that morning. Shrugging off his jacket and instead pulling on a hideous, warm sweater, he opened the fridge and stuck the money in there. Then he pulled out a frozen pizza and turned on the oven.

It was quiet outside. Dean got a bottle of beer from the fridge and walked over to the living room window, peering out. Leaned his forehead against the chilly glass and closed his eyes. It was too quiet.

Turning on the television, he slumped into the armchair placed directly in front of it and started flipping through the various channels. Finally he reached an adult one, and without further thought he grabbed the beer bottle with one hand and pushed the other one into his jeans. As he worked himself, drinking the beer and watching the screen, he thought of nothing. No one.

~*~

The alarm clock rang all too soon, and Castiel groaned. Even though he was physically healed, he still felt like shit. It had taken a while for Balthazar to find him, and healing being Castiel's secondary power, he'd had more than enough time to get a cold. That's probably what this was. Just a common cold. Nothing to be worried about.

"Cas, baby, you need to get up," Balthazar mumbled from behind him. The other man was pressed against his back, and Castiel could feel his boyfriend's wet breath on his neck. "Oh, and please turn off the goddamn alarm before I smash it to bits."

Castiel stretched out and turned it off, and then sat up. His head was throbbing, as if he had the worst hangover in history, and his wings and legs felt like lead. "I'm not feeling too good," he said out loud, and his voice was so rough it was barely a croak. He got up and walked to the bathroom, almost knocking into the doorway as he swayed.

"Cas? You okay?"

He didn't answer, just turned on the water in the sink and drank. It felt like he hadn't drunk anything for days, but already as he drank he felt nausea building in his stomach. It lurched violently, and with a groan he turned from the sink and barely had time to reach the toilet before he was retching.

"Cas!" In a flash Balthazar was by his side, a warm hand on his clammy forehead pushing the hair away from his face. "Jesus, baby, why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"Didn't know I was," Castiel got out, before a new wave of nausea hit him. "Cold." His wings quivered, in cold or exhaustion he couldn’t tell, and leaned against Balthazar. When he looked down into the toilet bowl, he was surprised to see that the content was black.

"Here," Balthazar murmured and pressed closer, so his body almost covered Castiel's. "Cas, you're burning up. You cannot go to work today."

"Need to," Castiel answered, but he knew he was fighting a lost cause. Although it seemed like he was finished emptying himself for now, he felt worse than when he'd woken up. He was sweating and shivering, too hot and too cold at once, and his head felt like it was about to explode. "Bal..."

"I've got you, baby, I've got you..."

He was helped back into bed, and only when he was firmly beneath the blankets and comforter did he open his eyes. Balthazar looked worried. Not the 'oh poor baby, you're sick' kind, more like 'oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you' worried. "Bal, I'm fine."

"Bollocks," the other man said with finality, but Castiel could see the tightness around Balthazar's eyes and the way his hands were trembling. "I saw the toilet bowl. This has got something to do with the Rubies."

Castiel swallowed heavily and didn't meet his brother's eyes.

"Fuckin' hell, Cas!" Balthazar swore and brought his fist down on his own thigh. "Why did you lie to me and say you weren't infected?!"

"I don’t know, I thought I was gonna be okay..." Castiel swallowed again. His breathing was getting ragged and uneven, his shivers more violent. Castiel had thought, hoped, that if he could only get the infected bullet out fast enough, his minor ability to heal himself could somehow have saved him. It seemed ridiculous in retrospect to think he would be that lucky.

"Jesus, what am I-" Balthazar broke off and turned around, not quite managing to conceal the sob.

"Bal," Castiel whispered and extended a hand. He couldn't find it in him to say he was sorry; it would sound condescending, and Balthazar would throw a fit. Balthazar usually responded to danger and loss with fury, and Castiel... needed him right now.

Balthazar leaned down immediately, grasping his hand. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears. "Cas... you should have _told me._ "

" 'msorry," he murmured even though he'd told himself he wouldn't say it, not out loud, not like this. He slurred the words so much they were nearly incomprehensible, his mouth tasting like tar and ash. He gripped the warm hands cradling his as tightly as he could. "Love you..."

"No, no no _no_ , Cas! Goddamn you, you bloody bastard!" Balthazar stood up, twisting out of Castiel's grip, and shrugged on a coat. "Idiocy is not supposed to be a cause of death. I'll fix you."

"You know there's no cure against the blood," Castiel rasped out.

"Not yet," Balthazar replied, "but we know someone who's been in a similar situation."

"What are you talking about?"

Balthazar's eyes flickered and he gripped the lapels of his own coat. "I'm contacting Righteous," he said, quiet enough that it was almost a whisper.

Castiel's eyes widened. "Bal, no. _No_ , Balthazar. He'll know about us- about everything-"

"Sod off, Cas," Balthazar snarled at him before coming back to the bed. "I love you, bird brain. Do _not_ die on me." He pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then he was out the door and gone.

Castiel tried, he really did. He hung onto wakefulness for what felt like hours, but finally the pain and exhaustion became too much and he slipped under. He didn’t resurface.

~*~

"Singer's garage, how can I help you?"

Dean hummed under his breath and tried to ignore Becky's piercing voice. It didn't usually work, and today was no exception.

"Ten past eight Monday morning," she chirped into the phone. "Excellent. And good day to you as well, sir."

His phone rang. Not his Dean-phone, the other one. He ignored it - they knew fucking better than to call him at this hour. The message said strictly between six pm and four am, and he wasn't gonna risk his goddamn job just because some lazy-ass superhero didn't have time to check the city out themselves.

It rang again.

"That yours, Winchester?"

"Sorry, Bobby," Dean answered. "Forgot to turn it off."

Bobby Singer muttered something under his breath and went outside to check on a client.

When the phone rang a third time, he cursed and gave up. Getting up from the floor and walking outside, he pressed the green button and hissed into the phone; "Look, asshole, I don't know if you're stupid or just plain lazy, but the message says-"

"Righteous, we need your help. _Now._ "

He frowned. "Are you a Hunter?"

"No, I'm an Angel." The voice, crisp with a clear, British accent, was on the verge of panic. "Please, I-"

"Which one? Who are you?"

"I- Revelation."

Dean walked quickly over to the empty part of the garage, where the parts too broken to be salvaged were. "Okay, what the fuck is it? You realize I can get fired for this, right?" Most of the superheroes out there had normal day jobs, and Revelation was probably not an exception.

"Sparrow is dying." It was short, concise, and it sounded like it cost the man a lot of effort to say the words.

 _Oh._ Dean swore. "Shit, I'm sorry. But what am I supposed to do about that?"

"It was the Rubies. They..."

Something cold washed over Dean's insides, and his hold on the phone tightened until it hurt. "It's the blood, isn't it?" he asked, voice suddenly hoarse. His mouth was dry like sand paper. _"Dean! It hurts, please!"_

"Yes." Revelation sounded like he was on the verge of crying. "Please, I just need- I don't know what to do. You're the only one who knows what it's like-"

"Fuck you," Dean spat, pushing the memories deep down where they belonged. "You have _no idea_ what it was like."

A small pause. "I apologise, I only-"

"Yeah, well. Don't." Dean sighed. "Meet me at the usual corner." Then he slammed the phone shut. "Emergency," he told Bobby. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"I oughta fire you, boy," Bobby bellowed after him as he ran.

"Yeah, but I'm too good for you!"

~*~

Revelation was already there when he got there, red mask in place and all. Dean had Shifted, wearing the appearance of a skinny, red-haired boy that looked a little like Ron Weasley. It made him seem less intimidating, which probably would help, considering general Angel skittishness and Dean's less-than-stellar reputation.

"Can you take me to him?" Dean asked, without too much hope. It was an unspoken law between the vigilantes - you didn't tell anyone your name, occupation or hiding place. Nothing that could make them find you. But Revelation only nodded curtly and started walking. It turned out that the apartment wasn't more than a couple of blocks away, and the last minute Revelation almost ran.

"How long ago since he got infected?" Dean asked as they walked up the stairs. Two floors, second door on the right.

"Last night, around four am," was the short answer, “but it was via a bullet to the lung, so the poison could be affecting him faster than usual. I haven't been able to check- check on him for a while.” And then they were inside. "Sparrow?"

No answer. Dean looked around the little apartment. It looked like it was inhabited by more than one person, and had been for a good while. "Do you live together?" he asked, surprised.

Revelation sent him a sharp look. "Will this be a problem?"

Dean rolled his eyes and followed the man into the living room. "Dude, who you're screwing when you pretend to be normal ain't no concern of mine."

"Good." Then they were in the bedroom, the man crouching by the bed. "Sparrow? Sparr- fuck it. Cas? You with me, baby?"

 _Cas_. Dean walked over to the two men. Sparrow - or Cas - was pale as a sheet, his eyes closed and body still. Even his brown wings were lifeless, one of them almost folded against the floor as if it had just… dropped there.

"No, no, no," Revelation mumbled, his breath hitching as he stroked Sparrow's hair away from his face.

He would have been beautiful, Dean realized, if he hadn't looked so... dead.

"Goddamn you, you stubborn bastard," Revelation sobbed. "You _promised_." He curled one hand weakly in the other's wing, pressing his face against Sparrow's cheek and whispering words Dean couldn't hear from where he stood. All signs of that smooth, steadfast person Dean had seen a glimpse of at the street corner was gone; in his place a broken man.

Dean closed his eyes and cursed. He could keep his mouth shut, or... "He's not dead."

Revelation lifted his head. "Wh- what?"

"The blood. From the Rubies," Dean explained wearily, eyes still closed. "It doesn't kill you. It just... changes you, possesses you. Turns you into a slave working for them."

"But-" the other man glanced at his boyfriend again. "How do you know this?" he finally asked.

Dean reopened his eyes to meet the other man's steel blue ones. "You know how."

He sucked in a sharp breath. "Your brother," he whispered. "Sight."

Dean nodded.

"But you told everyone he was dead!"

"He's as good as. The same as with your Cas here." Dean dragged a hand across his face. "I only met Sight once after he was infected. He didn't even recognize me. Tried really hard to kill me, in fact." He dragged the top of his t-shirt down a little, revealing a pale, thin scar at the side of his neck.

"But there must be a way to reverse it!" Revelation stood up, still holding his lover's lifeless hand. "I'm a healer! An Angel! I can- I don't know, call for help, I know people who-"

"Look," Dean said, brushing his t-shirt and looking away. "You want to do that, that's fine. Go ahead. But count me out." He glanced once more at the pale beauty in the bed. "I lost my brother a long time ago," he said quietly. "I've come to terms with it."

The other man opened his mouth as if to argue, but then he hesitated. "You won't tell anyone about us? About... Cas?"

"Of course not." Dean turned to leave. "I wish you luck, man."

"Thank you-" Revelation broke off into a sob.

Dean hesitated, wondering if he should comfort the other man - but the scene was too painfully familiar. It was so easy, too easy, to see Sam lying there and not Sparrow. He lied when he had told Revelation he was over Sam's turning. He wasn't. And he never would be, either. Which was just fucking fine.

~*~

Dean couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he'd see Cas' pale face, then Sam's, and then he had to open them. He was sweating, even though it was late fall and cold in the room. Finally giving up, he pulled out his phone.

"Hello, Dean," a pleasant voice answered after only one ring. "Long time, no hear."

"Crowley." Dean tried to sneer, but it came out almost soft. "I need your help."

"Yet again. What for?"

"Sparrow's been turned."

The Demon whistled into the phone. "The winged Angel? He's a potentially powerful one, he is."

"I know," Dean said, rubbing absently at his face. "We can't afford to let the Rubies have him, not when they've..."

"… already got Sam," Crowley finished for him.

"Yeah."

"Well, you know as well as I that I don't have a cure."

"But you found out something, didn't you?" Dean says, remembing a conversation from years ago. Everything from that time is hazy with grief and anger, but he remembers that.

A pause. "I did."

"Then get in touch with Revelation."

"Revelation?" The Demon sounded vaguely interested, which was probably the closest to surprised Crowley could ever be. "That's the healer, isn't it? Why him?"

"They're living together," Dean answered, not without a hint of amusement. He knew what was coming long before Crowley started laughing, a low, cackling sound.

"God, you superheroes _are_ all gay, aren't you? Of course you are, with the silk scarves in front of your faces and the spangly outfits in pretty, bright colours."

"Fuck off," Dean said, finally smiling. "Will you help?"

"Fine, spangly-pants," Crowley sighed. "Want me to walk through Hell for you while I'm at it?"

"Nah, that's okay." Dean hesitated. "Crowley?"

"Mhm?"

Dean's grip on the phone tightened minutely. "If... if you find something, tell me. If you don't..."

"Sure thing, love," Crowley drawled, but there was genuine concern there somewhere, Dean was sure of it. "Ta." And then he hung up.

Dean sighed and stared at his cell phone. He'd spent the first two years after Sam's turning trying to find a cure, and he'd failed. If there was the slightest chance this wasn't going to work, he needed to stay away. He needed to stay away from the brother he'd lost.

He glanced over at the file on the far end of the table, old and used and filled to the brim with useless information he'd gotten over the last four years. The wall, covered in maps and pieces of paper that showed every location the Rubies had wreaked havoc in since That Day. He swallowed before walking back into the bedroom.

Stay away. Right.

~*~

His phone rang again, two days later. "Yeah?" Dean answered, looking at the ceiling as he lay on the bed.

"You did try to heal Sam, didn't you?"

"Of course I did, Crowley, a friend tried," Dean sighed, recognizing the voice immediately. "And it was the first thing Revelation did with Ca- with Sparrow as well. Healing doesn't work."

"That's because it doesn't get the contaminated blood out," Crowley answered, ignoring Dean's almost-slip.

"Please tell me you've called to tell me something I don't know," Dean snapped.

"Did you try to burn him?"

Dean frowned, a small shiver running down his back. "That would have killed him."

"You don't know that."

"It's what's always happened, Crowley. That's what burning _does_." He takes a sharp breath. "Besides, there's no burner in the state, let alone this city."

"Wasn't," was the other man's clipped answer.

Dean sat up. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I might just be able to get a hold of one."

"What?" Oh, how he hated that familiar stirring of hope in his chest. Sam was _dead_ , dammit. "Who?"

"Trickster."

He laughed bitterly. "Trickster's no burner, Crowley. He's a shifter, like me. Only, you know. Better."

"I've heard differently," the Demon said, and Dean could hear his smirk over the phone. "Apparently he picked up a few tricks when he was underground. Besides, you know superheroes are adaptable and able to pick up powers from the right... shall we say 'places'? As, for example, family?"

"Bullshit," Dean said tiredly and rubbed his temple. It was true, there were many instances where people had been able to learn the powers of their family members, but it didn't happen often. He still had no foresight, as Sam had, although he was able to use minor telekinesis if he was desperate enough. It wasn't a reliable trait. "And there hasn't been a burner on this side of the country since Thunder died."

"Exactly." The Demon's voice was almost a sing-song by now. "Thunder, aka Raphael the Angel, aka the brother to..." He trailed off into an expectant silence.

Dean rubbed his temple again as he tried to remember. God, how was the Angel hierarchy again? Raphael, next oldest after Michael, big brother of- "Oh, you cannot be serious."

A snicker over the phone.

" _Gabriel_?" Dean asked, unbelieving. "He's been dead for over twelve years. They're all dead, the first brothers."

"That, or..."

He really hated Crowley's pointed silences. "Or underground," he said, almost to himself. “As Trickster.”

"Exactly."

"So... how do you know this?"

"I found him."

"What? Where?"

"Maine."

"Seriously?"

"No. I must keep _some_ secrets to my own self, Dean-o." Crowley laughed. "You owe me to the day you die, Winchester. See you in two days. I'm coming over."

~*~

"You know," Dean said as he looked down in the trunk, "when you told me he'd help, I sorta assumed he actually _wanted_ to help us."

"Which should remind you once again never to assume when I am involved," Crowley purred and glanced down at the unconscious man in the trunk. "Help me get him in without the neighbors finding out, if you would be so kind."

Dean muttered a curse and glanced around them, but finally hoisted the slightly smaller figure over his shoulder and got inside his apartment as fast as possible. He'd shifted beforehand, just in case someone would see him. In that case, they'd see a bulky, sailor-looking dude wearing a tux.

"I hope he's not dead," he said when he finally lowered the man to the floor. The man in question, Gabriel, didn't move.

"Oh, he'll be right as rain in a few minutes," Crowley said and waved him off. “I just took my precautions, just in case."

"So I see." The ropes had already made angry, red lines on Gabriel's bound hands, and both the blindfold and the gag seemed uncomfortable. They got the man in without much trouble; he had a small frame, and Crowley was deceptively strong.

True to his words, as Crowley surprisingly often was, Gabriel started coming to only minutes later. Immediately he started thrashing and yelling through his gag, twisting violently and trying to dislodge the blindfold. Crowley leaned down and whispered into his ear. "When you're finished with trying to get out of my ropes, which we both know you will never do, let us know."

At that, Gabriel whimpered and seemed to curl in on himself. After trying to take a few deep breaths, and failing, he nodded.

"Will you be a good boy, Gabe?" Crowley purred, ever the master of the situation.

The man nodded again, and Dean leaned down this time to remove the gag.

"You fucking asshole Demon," Gabriel snarled as soon as he was free to speak. "What the Hell was that for?!"

"I made a promise to a friend," Crowley said calmly. "And we think you can help."

"You could've just _asked_ me!"

Dean shot a surprised look at the Demon, who snickered gleefully. "Well, this was much more fun."

"Jesus Christ, Crowley," Dean muttered and shook his head. "Tell me again why you're one of the good guys."

"I've never been a good guy," Crowley retorted. "I'm loyal to myself and those in my favor only."

"Yeeah, that would be why."

Gabriel had stilled at Dean's words, and over the blindfold he could see the bound man frowning. "Who's that?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"You might know me as Righteous," Dean said, and shot Crowley another glare that dared him to voice Dean's real name out loud. He still hadn't shifted back to his original form.

"Fucking great," Gabriel groaned and sagged back to the wall he was propped up against. "I've been kidnapped by the Righteous Man."

Dean ignored the nickname. He hated that they called him The Righteous Man, just because he dealt with forces on all sides. It was taken out of the Bible, he knew that, and although he hadn't read that particular passage, he still felt vaguely ill every time someone used his full nickname. There was nothing righetous about him or what he did for a living; not at all."Hey, I had no idea Crowley was gonna kidnap you."

"Really doesn't change my situation, cupcake," Gabriel replied cheekily.

A soft snort escaped Dean before he could manage himself. "True. I just wanted to point out that I'm not the bad guy here." He leaned down again, this time removing the blindfold. "There you go. Sorry for the inconvenience or whatever."

"Gee, that's so romantic," Gabriel muttered as he squinted against the sudden light. After quickly checking around himself, relaxing visibly when he realized he wasn't in a torture chamber or something like that, his focus shifted to Dean once again. "So, you're a shifter as well. Fancy that."

Dean just nodded. Like other shifters, himself included, Gabriel could see when his appearance was fake. He couldn't see what Dean really looked like, only that the appearance he was holding up were sort of... shifting, twisting, under his gaze. Dean remembered. So Dean also knew that the man in front of him really looked like this.

Gabriel sighed and looked at Crowley. "Fine. Anyone wanna explain to me just _why_ I'm here? I'm supposed to be dead, you know. This here kinda ruins the image."

"Are you Trickster?" Dean asked bluntly, and the other man flinched and looked at Crowley with an almost desperate expression. "Hey, de-freak, buddy. It's my living to know stuff I don't tell to anyone else."

"As long as it's in your own interests," Gabriel quipped, the panic in his eyes not quite concealed.

"True," Dean nodded after a brief hesitation, "but it's in my interests that you remain officially dead for the time being. That good enough?"

"No."

"Well, it's the best I can give you." Dean sighed and sat down on the floor. Gabriel tried to scoot away from him, unable because of the ropes. "I need your help, Gabriel."

"How do- how do you know so much about me?"

"Crowley," Dean answered, as if that explained everything. To them, it did.

"Oh, come off it, Gabe," Crowley said to Gabriel's accusing stare and rolled his eyes.

"What kind of help do you want?" Gabriel asked Dean, visibly wary.

"Crowley says you can burn. Is that true? That you learned it from Thunder - from your brother Raphael?"

"Jesus, did you tell him my entire goddamn life story?" Gabriel groaned at Crowley.

"Yes."

"Please, Gabriel," Dean begged, finally putting a hand on Gabriel's knee. "I'm not gonna try to make you a slave of mine or anything. I just need answers. Have you ever burned a Hunter?"

"Of course I have," Gabriel snarled, but then seemed to remember that he was currently talking to a person who dealt with Hunters on a regular basis, and gave Dean an apologetic look. "Not many. Only four. And believe me when I say they deserved it."

"I believe you." Dean knew there were several of them out there who were much more crazy, and dangerous, than himself. Although Hunters were believed to be the good guys, at least by the general American population, there were some rotten apples. A _lot_ of rotten apples. "But tell me, Gabriel - and this is really important - have you ever burned a Hunter who's survived it?"

The Angel shook his head. "No. They all died."

With a curse, Dean leaned back. So much for that hope.

Crowley didn't say anything, just watched from a small distance with great interest.

"Okay," Gabriel said after a while, "you've got my curiosity peaked. What's all this about?"

"It doesn't matter."

"His brother was infected by the Rubies," Crowley said. "Shot with their Colt."

"Fuck you, Crowley," Dean bit out.

The Demon just shrugged. "I disapprove of secrets getting in the way of the conversation."

"Your brother? Sight?" Gabriel asked.

Dean reluctantly nodded. Despite the uneasiness of spilling these secrets to a guy he barely knew (and what he did know was stuff of legends), Crowley had a point. Turnabout was fair play. "Healing doesn't work against the contaminated blood," he explained, the familiar weariness washing over him. "So I thought maybe..."

"… I could burn it out?" Gabriel asked, seeming genuinely interested. "Well, I don't know. I've never tried that before. But I could always try, if that's what you..." He trailed off, into his thoughts. "So your brother's been possessed by the Rubies for four whole years?"

Dean nodded again, not meeting the bound man's eyes.

Gabriel whistled. "Harsh."

"Yeah, you could say that." Dean barked out a humorless laugh.

"The interesting thing is," Crowley said, "that Sparrow is currently wandering down that same, windy road as Sight went once. Something tells me you'd be interested in that particular fact."

Gabriel paled. "Sparrow's infected?"

"No," Dean said with a bitter smile. "Cas isn't infected anymore. He's been turned by now."

Gabriel actually flinched. "You know his name."

"Yeah."

"Who told you?"

"Revelation. They live together, apparently."

Gabriel seemed almost more shocked by that fact. "Whoa. Shit, poor Bal. He must be..."

Dean kept quiet, trying not to show his surprise at the name. Bal... He didn't know anyone by that name. Bal and Cas.

"I should-" Gabriel stopped himself halfway in the sentence and started chuckling - a lost, little sound. "Oh, right. I'm dead."

"Do you have a place to shack up in?" Dean asked, and the smaller man shook his head. "You could always stay here for a few days, until you get your alternate looks up and a fake id. I can help you with that too, by the way."

Gabriel blinked, surprised. "Why would you do that?"

"Well, you were dead until I showed up," he shrugged. "Least I can do is make sure you stay that way for as long as you'd want to."

After a moment's hesitation, the Angel's face split into a grin. "Thanks, Righteous," he smiled. "I'd like that."

With a sharp nod Dean stood up from the floor and dusted off his jeans. "Um," he said after a moment. "We should probably untie you."

"That'd be awesome," Gabriel said and rolled his eyes.

Crowley grinned.

~*~

_Soft, soothing voices woke him up from a deep slumber. So beautiful. They were all so beautiful._

_"Wake up, sweet knight," the first woman whispered and pressed her lithe, curvy body up against his._

_"We have been waiting for you," the second one murmured, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips that had him aching for more._

_"Will you be ours, Emmanuel? Forever?" the third one asked, breath ghosting over his neck and clavicle._

_"Yes," he gasped, more happy, more fulfilled and content than he'd ever felt. "Yes, God, please."_

_"Will you help us?"_

_"I'll do anything_."

~*~

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Fairly explicit rendition of a killing spree (pre-story). Lots of hurt, but almost equal amount of comfort.

  
After his shift at Singer's Garage, Dean called Bal's number. Balthazar Novak, as he'd found out via Google last night after Gabriel had fallen asleep on his couch. Most of the remaining Angels had changed their last name, obviously, since the Angel family was the most famous superhero family in the world.  
  
"Hello?" Revelation's voice was only a croak.  
  
"It's Righteous."  
  
A sharp intake of breath. "Do you have any news?"  
  
"Maybe. I need to talk to you face to face, can you make it?"  
  
Shuffling sounds. "Give me thirty minutes. The usual corner, yes?"  
  
"Sure. See you." Dean pressed the red button and got onto his black Kawasaki. His baby, a 1967 Chevy Impala, was too big for the city. This was a much easier way of getting around.  
  
Revelation came forty minutes after they'd hung up, red faced from running. "Apologies, I had to..." but he didn't finish the sentence, only leaned against the wall.  
  
"Don't get your hopes up yet," Dean warned.  
  
"Too late," Revelation said, eyes honest and desperate. "Please give me something to hold on to. Anything at all."  
  
Dean swallowed. It went against every instinct he had, every rule he'd set up for himself to ensure his safety, hell, his survival. And now he just didn't care. "Come with me."  
  
"Where are we going?" Revelation asked as they reached Dean's motorcycle.  
  
"To my place. Look, Balthazar, I know who you are."  
  
Revelation froze. "How-"  
  
"You'll see when we get there," Dean promised him. "You gotta trust me on this one."  
  
The other man didn't move, just remained in a pose as if preparing to run for his life. His hand twitched, and Dean had no doubt that Revelation had a knife or a gun (or both) on him somewhere.  
  
Dean took a deep breath. "My name is Dean. Winchester." He looked Balthazar square in the eyes.  
  
The Angel blinked, surprised, but nodded after a long pause. His stance softened with the exchange of information. Now, at least, they could both get each other killed. "Hello, Dean."  
  
Dean nodded back at him and climbed onto his motorcycle. Then they drove.  
  


~*~

  
  
"Gabriel." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Balthazar," Gabriel sighed and sat up on Dean's couch, rubbing his wrists awkwardly. He didn't try to smile.  
  
"How can- this- what- you're _dead_ ," Balthazar finally got out. He swayed where he was.  
  
"Yeah, not so much," Gabriel said.  
  
In the next instant, the younger Angel was on him, pounding with both his fists. "You- fucking- _bastard_!" He hissed as he hit, over and over. Gabriel shielded himself with his arms, trying to evade the worst blows, but made no move to hit back or even push the smaller Angel away. One of Balthazar's fists hit him square in the nose and the older Angel grunted in pain, but didn't even lift his hands to wipe away the trickle of blood.  
  
"Um," Dean said. "Am I looking at a really tense family reunion here, or...?"  
  
"You _left_ us!" Balthazar screeched, either ignoring Dean's words or explaining - Dean wasn't sure. "You fucking _left_ us!"  
  
"I'm sorry!" Gabriel barked out and finally got a hold of Balthazar's wrists, pinning them to his chest. "I'm sorry," he repeated, voice quiet and this moment was way too personal for Dean to be present at.  
  
He stayed right where he was.  
  
"Just- _why_?" It was something between a whisper and a sob. Balthazar sat on Gabriel's lap, knees undoubtedly digging into Gabriel's thighs, and his hands were clnching and unclenching spasmically.  
  
"I couldn't handle it," Gabriel whispered back, and his voice trembled. "Raphael's death, and then Michael and Lucifer's battle... I just couldn't. I had to leave everything behind."  
  
"He was crushed," Balthazar sobbed. "God, you should have seen him. Castiel still visits your _grave_ , Gabriel."  
  
 _Castiel._ Dean made a small note in his mind.  
  
"I know. I visit it too, sometimes." Gabriel closed his eyes and dragged the smaller Angel closer, so close their foreheads rested against each other. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."  
  
"Twelve fucking _years_ , Gabriel," Balthazar said, trembling. "God, I've missed you so much. We both have." And he slumped against the older Angel, all the anger bleeding out of him.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Gabriel murmured as he held onto the other man, rocking him gently like he was a kid. " I am. But... Dean here told me you two seem to have found each other in the meantime. In more ways than one." He quirked an eyebrow.  
  
Balthazar immediately froze, but when he tried to lean away Gabriel held onto him.  
  
"I'm not judging you, Balthazar. You're both adults, and good for each other. And God knows Cas is the only one you had after your father died."  
  
Balthazar sobbed again and buried his face in the hollow of Gabriel's neck.  
  
"Wait," Dean said slowly. "Father?"  
  
Balthazar tensed again, but relaxed when Gabriel muttered a few reassuring phrases in a different language. He didn't lift his head, and Gabriel stroked his hand slowly up and down his back.  
  
"I'm sure you already know quite a bit about the Angels, Dean" Gabriel said, voice deliberately calm.  
  
Dean nodded. "You were four brothers in the beginning. Michael, Raphael, you, and..."  
  
"Lucifer, yes."  
  
"And then Lucifer went psycho and killed Raphael, and then supposedly killed you too."  
  
Balthazar flinched, but didn’t say anything.  
  
"Very roughly put, yes," Gabriel said and sighed, "although the whole story's a lot more complicated."  
  
"And finally Michael killed Lucifer before he hung himself."  
  
Gabriel twitched at the harshness of the words, but didn't deny it. "Shot himself, actually," he whispered, face contorted in pain at the memory. "It all happened so fast, it wasn't hard to fake my own death after they were all gone." He looked almost nauseous, and Balthazar trembled more violently against him. "Sshh, Zaza," Gabriel murmured.  
  
"But I don't know much more than that," Dean admitted. "You Angels keep the cards pretty close to the chest, now. You're not even one family anymore, are you?"  
  
Gabriel shook his head. "No, we're not. Although most of us are related one way or another." His hand rubbed soothing circles on the younger Angel's back. "Castiel, Samandriel and Balthazar are all Lucifer's. Anna is Michael's only child, Uriel and Rachel are Raphael's children. The other Angels you've heard of are married into the family."  
  
"Right." Then Dean frowned as something dawned on him. "But... you said that Castiel and Balthazar..."  
  
Gabriel sent him an 'I dare you to say it out loud' glare. "Technically they're only half-brothers. They have different mothers."  
  
"But it's still incest," Dean blurted, and the words came out much harsher than intended.  
  
Balthazar flinched as if he'd been struck, and finally looked up at Dean. He looked completely and utterly broken, but- but not apologetic.  
  
"After I left, there was no one to take care of them," Gabriel said softly, regret marring both his voice and his face. He stroked a tear away from Balthazar's face. "I don't judge them for the choices they've made, especially if it helped them through the rough time."  
  
Dean and Balthazar kept staring at each other, a silent screaming match going on between them. Finally Dean looked away, taking a deep breath. He thought of himself and Sam, who had always been so close. Almost too close. What was it the orphanage had called them? _Emotionally co-dependent._ Yeah. Dean and Sam might not ever have been a couple, not in the sense it seemed like Balthazar and Castiel had been, but Sam was the most important thing in Dean's life. His everything. "I'm not saying it doesn't make you freaks, because it really does," he said out loud.  
  
Balthazar closed his red-rimmed eyes, lowering his head in shame, and Gabriel’s eyes hardened.  
  
"But I mean, I can look like anyone I want," Dean continued. "My brother, Sam, he could move stuff with his mind and see into the future. Gabriel can burn people's darkness out of them, even their soul if he concentrates." He shrugged and tried a smile on for size. "I'm thinking we're all a bunch of freaks here. And I’m pretty sure I told you that the first time I met you too; I don’t care who you’re screwing when you pretend to be normal.”  
  
Balthazar's jaw fell open, and Gabriel laughed. It was the first time Dean saw an honest, carefree smile on the older Angel's face. "You..." Balthazar broke off, shaking his head. "I owe you," he said instead. "For returning my uncle to me, for not... Thank you."  
  
Dean nodded, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation.  
  
"Can I..." The younger Angel hesitated. "I'm sorry about this, but could I stay here, just for tonight? Everything at home reminds me of Castiel, and I don't... I don't think I should be left alone right now."  
  
"Sure, you and Gabe can fight over the couch." He shrugged on a jacket. "I gotta go to work now, an emergency-thingy at the garage. I should be home in a few hours." He turned to glance at the two angels, still sitting close on the couch. "You guys gonna be okay?"  
  
They both nodded. "Thans, Dean," Gabriel said quietly. "I'll help you any way I can, to try to get your brother back."  
  
"That's all I need." And he shut the door behind himself.  
  


~*~

  
  
When he got back, both Angels were sleeping on the couch. Balthazar was curled around Gabriel's small form, the older Angel having both his arms around his nephew. They looked so much more like two small, frightened boys than grown men that Dean couldn't do anything else than smile sadly.  
  
He knew how much it fucked you up to lose your parents as just a kid - after losing his own parents in a fire when he was four, barely getting six month old Sammy out in time, he'd only had his brother to rely on. He'd never thought of Sam _that_ way, as more than a platonic life- and crime-fighting companion, he could see how it could easily have been different. With the added complication of knowing that your own father had murdered half your family before getting killed by your uncle, who then committed suicide... yeah, he could get it.  
  
Fuck it all, he got it completely.  
  
And he was genuinely happy for Balthazar and Gabriel, too - that they had each other again. Especially after what had happened to Castiel. God knew Dean had been worse off when he'd lost Sam, having no one he could trust completely. Sure, Bobby helped, and even Becky sometimes, but neither of them knew about Righteous. He couldn't bear to tell them. So he'd been alone then, and he'd been alone ever since.  
  
It was a fate he wished on no one but the Rubies.  
  
With a weary sigh, he walked over to the fridge and got himself a beer. When he turned around, his eyes met Gabriel's open, awake ones. "Sorry," Dean said. "Thought I was pretty quiet."  
  
"You were," the older angel said quietly and smiled. "I wasn't asleep."  
  
Dean took a sip of his beer. "I need a smoke," he muttered.  
  
Gabriel huffed. "Look, I get that it's difficult to understand for you-"  
  
"It's not that."  
  
Gabriel arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.  
  
"It just freaks me out a little bit," Dean said and smiled crookedly, "how easily me and Sam could've ended up the same way. Didn't really need that to disrupt my already well-developed insomnia." He bit his lip when he heard how it could be misinterpreted. "Not that- I mean, it's fine. The Bal and Cas... thing..." he gestured vaguely, "it's fine. Really. But I've never thought of Sam that way, and... I don't know. I guess it got me thinking of some bad shit." He took another swallow of the beer to shut himself up.  
  
Gabriel chuckled lightly, and Balthazar shifted in his sleep. "They always were close," he admitted. "Even before, well, before our family went to Hell and I faked my own death, they were more like twins than half-brothers." He looked down at his nephew. "Besides, poor Cas always was hopeless with flirting and reading between the lines. I bet Bal here took pity on him."  
  
Dean laughed quietly. "What about you? Did you find anyone when you were dead?"  
  
With a sigh, Gabriel laid down again. "Nah, nothing permanent. There were a few- I stayed with a nice girl named Kali for a couple of months, but she got kinda... weird on me."  
  
Dean arched an eyebrow. "What kind of weird?"  
  
"She tried to sacrifice me to a Norse demigod," Gabriel sighed.  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"Nope."  
  
Dean coughed a laugh into his beer bottle, and the Angel smiled back at him. The silence grew comfortable. "I should probably go to bed."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Dean didn't move.  
  
Gabriel smirked. "If you're trying to flirt with me, your timing is really awful."  
  
Dean flinched. Shit, that was exactly what he'd been doing and he hadn’t even noticed. "Sorry, I didn't- I'm gonna go now."  
  
Gabriel's smirk softened. "Good night, Dean Winchester."  
  
"Good night, Gabriel Novak."  
  
He didn't get any sleep. Of course he didn't.  
  


~*~

  
  
"You look like shit."  
  
"Thank you, feel free to get the fuck out of my apartment whenever," Dean muttered as he made his way over to the coffee machine.  
  
Gabriel laughed. "Nah, I like it here."  
  
"So I noticed," Dean said and picked up a candy wrapper from the floor. "Where's Balthazar?"  
  
“Work. He’s a nurse over at Sacred Heart, like Castiel. Was.”  
  
Dean noticed the added ‘was’, but didn’t comment on it. “Huh. Must come in handy when you’re a healer.”  
  
Gabriel nodded and sat his coffee cup down on the small kitchen table. “Yeah, he uses his powers every now and again. Only in cases where he won’t get caught, of course. Cas does- did too, but healing is only his secondary power.” Gabriel paused. “It’s something they both inherited from Lucifer.”  
  
Dean snorted grimly. “Seems pretty redundant that the healer in the family was the one who went ballistic in the first place.”  
  
“You don’t say,” Gabriel muttered, staring absentmindedly at his coffee cup. “I was there, you know,” he murmured after a while, and Dean blinked in surprise.  
  
“When Lucifer…”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “Cas was there too, actually, even though he was just a kid at the time.” He let out a shuddering breath. "I don't think he remembers- remembered it."  
  
Dean sat down across from him without a word. Many people knew the outline of the Angel tragedy, but few knew what had actually transpired that April afternoon almost twenty years ago.  
  
“I still don’t know why Lucifer started with Eve,” Gabriel told him. “Raphael’s wife. There was no forewarning at all- he just stood up at the dinner table right after dessert and shot her in the face.”  
  
Dean gaped. “Oh God,” he said.  
  
Gabriel turned the coffee cup without drinking from it. “Yeah. I mean, I just- sat there. Stiff as a pole. I had no fucking clue what was going on before Raphael roared and threw himself across the table, and people started to scream. Lucifer shot him three times in the chest. There was blood everywhere.” Gabriel’s hands were trembling, and he clutched the coffee cup as if to ground himself. “It all happened pretty fast after that. Rachel ran off with her brother Uriel; Samandriel, Anna and Balthazar weren’t there at the time. Thank God. Michael tried to get the gun from Lucifer, and I was still just. Fucking. Sitting. There.” His voice tremble with the amount of self-loathing that now shone through.  
  
Dean swallowed heavily and wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. “Jesus,” was all he could get out.  
  
“I’m not sure who shot Joshua- Michael or Lucifer. They were both fighting for the gun.” Gabriel sent him a scared look. “That’s why the duel between the two of them took place later- and why Michael won, I think. Lucifer had killed the dearest Michael had, apart from Anna.”  
  
Dean frowned. “What do you mean?” He didn’t remember hearing of a Joshua Angel anywhere.  
  
“Joshua,” Gabriel explained. “Michael’s partner.”  
  
“His- huh,” Dean said. “And everyone knew that?”  
  
Gabriel shrugged, the haunted look in his eyes dimming a little. “We didn’t discuss it, but sure. We all knew it.” He smiled a little, before taking a deep breath.  
  
“Why didn’t he kill you?” Dean asked quietly.  
  
“I ran,” Gabriel replied and gave him a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. “Like the coward I was, I ran and watched from a corner. Castiel was so small at the time, he was already sitting underneath the table playing with his auntie Eve’s legs. Annoying her. He didn’t even-“ he let out a sob and averted his gaze. “He didn’t know she was dead at first. I think he got so scared by the loud sound it didn’t register with him. When I noticed him, he was still poking at her legs, trying to make her move.”  
  
Dean felt a wave of nausea roll over him, and he was gripping the bottle so hard his fingers hurt from the strain.  
  
“I didn’t even stay around,” Gabriel whispered. “I just packed up my suitcases and called Crowley. He promised me they’d identify my body among the others.”  
  
“And then you left,” Dean said quietly. “And stayed away until now.”  
  
Gabriel didn’t even nod, just stared at Dean's bottle of now lukewarm beer, eyes dull and shiny with undhed tears.  
  
Dean sighed. “I don’t know what to say,” he murmured.  
  
“Well, you’re free to throw me out of here. I won’t blame you.”  
  
“No, it’s not-“ Dean stopped and inhaled a shuddering breath. “I won’t. You can stay here for as long as you need.”  
  
“I just… I wish I had gotten over my fear before now,” Gabriel whispered. “Talked to Castiel before… before.”  
  
Dean nodded. Then he stood up and got over to the cupboard and started picking out stuff.  
  
“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked, his voice wavering between pain and curiosity.  
  
“I need to do something with my hands,” Dean muttered. “How do you feel about cupcakes?” He looked over at the older Angel.  
  
Gabriel blinked at him, surprised, and then his face cracked up in a watery smile. “I’d like that,” he said with a rough voice, before he too got up. “Do you want some help?”  
  
“Sure. Go ahead.”  
  


~*~

  
  
Dean came into the living room the next morning to find Gabriel sitting alone on the couch. “Balthazar’s gone.”  
  
“Gone where?” Dean asked absently, making himself coffee.  
  
"Scouting."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"The Rubies."  
  
Dean put the coffee mug hard on the counter. " _What_?"  
  
Gabriel sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. "Couldn't stop him. Unless I wanted to tie him up, which I thought would ruin the whole bonding thing we've got going."  
  
"Goddammit, Gabriel! He'll get himself killed! Or worse, infected!"  
  
"He'll be fine," the Angel assured him, although he seemed pale and unsure. "He’s just scouting. He's not stupid enough to try and take them on, not without back-up."  
  
"Like Castiel did?"  
  
"He didn't know about the risks," Gabriel snapped. "Bal does."  
  
"Yeah, well, so did Sam," Dean bit out before he could stop himself.  
  
Gabriel's eyebrows rose. "You never told us that."  
  
"It never came up," Dean sniped and walked out to the window. He lit a cigarette and leaned out, avoiding the other man's gaze.  
  
"How did you guys know about the infection?” Gabriel asked. “It’s only recently we learned what the Colt can do. The Rubies are good at keeping their weapon a well-guarded secret."  
  
"I didn't know about it, not at the time. But Sam had an idea - he was just too fucking stubborn to listen to me and wait. And then that fucking Colt-" Dean broke off to take another puff of the cigarette.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Yeah, not as sorry as I am," Dean bit out.  
  
"He told me," Gabriel said quietly after a small pause, and Dean finally turned to meet the older man's eyes. "Balthazar. About Castiel dying."  
  
"Well," Dean said, clutching the cigarette. "At least he wasn't there the last minutes. They're the worst. That’s when they stare at you with those big, feverish eyes and call for help, and you know you can’t do shit about it. It feels like a fucking eternity before he finally convulses and goes quiet. And then you're sure he's dead, so you start fixing a funeral, wondering if you should blow your brains out before or after he's put in the earth - and then the fucker opens his eyes and fucking _grins_ at you, says 'hello Dean' like nothing's wrong, and just walks out. And when you find him again a year later, he doesn't remember you at all and tries to cut your head off with a goddamn Bowie." He didn't notice how badly he was trembling until he lost the cigarette. He watched it fall out of the window and down six stories before it finally hit the ground.  
  
Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, gentle and persistent. He didn't struggle when Gabriel pulled him close.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry for you."  
  
His eyes were burning, it was difficult to swallow against the lump in his throat, and somehow a sob seemed to make its way out of his mouth anyway. His hand fisted in Gabriel's shirt as he tried to hold himself together. "I still regret that, you know," he said without noticing he'd spoken out loud.  
  
"Regret what?"  
  
"Not blowing my brains out," Dean said and gave Gabriel a shit-eating grin.  
  
"Shit, you're so fucking damaged," Gabriel said and kissed him.  
  
Well. That was maybe not as unexpected as it should have been.  
  
At least some unconscious part of Dean must have figured out what was coming before it did, because he was kissing back long before his mind had fully processed what the hell was going on. In a matter of minutes he found himself on the counter of the kitchen, tugging off his shirt and urging Gabriel to do the same.  
  
"Wait," Gabriel said and pulled back a little. He cupped Dean's face. "I'm not sure I wanna be another one-night-stand for you, Dean."  
  
Dean laughed bitterly. "I haven't had casual sex since Sam died. Hell, I haven't had _any_ sex since Sam died."  
  
Gabriel whistled. "My mind springs to Bal and Cas," he pointed out gently.  
  
"God, don't I know it." Dean sobbed out a laugh and claimed the Angel's mouth again.  
  
They barely made it to the bedroom, shedding their clothes on the way. Dean pushed Gabriel back until the back of his knees hit the bedframe and the shorter man tumbled back onto the bed.  
  
“Ow,” Gabriel pointed out. “That hur-“  
  
Dean shut him up by pretty much kissing the guy senseless, and climbing into the bed until he was lying flush against him.  
  
“Jesus,” Gabriel gasped when Dean started grinding his hips against his own, grabbing a hold of Dean’s ass.  
  
“Feel free to call me Dean,” Dean replied cheekily and nipped at Gabriel’s lip.  
  
The Angel rolled his eyes. “Lame, Winchester.”  
  
Dean responded by increasing the speed of his thrusts, the way slicked by both men’s pre-come, and that reduced Gabriel’s vocabulary to vague sounds of surprise and pleasure.  
  
It was over embarrassingly quickly. Dean grabbed a hold of both of them, and Gabriel sucked a bruise on his neck. Dean came with a short shout, his release sending Gabriel flying over the edge as well. Afterwards, Dean got some wipes form the bedside drawer to clean them off with.  
  
“I should probably go,” Gabriel said slowly and made a move to get out of bed.  
  
“Yeah, you probably should,” Dean murmured and hauled him back. He kissed his temple.  
  
Gabriel huffed out a relieved laugh, and his smile was brilliant when he leaned up to kiss Dean once more. Then he curled around Dean’s form, his head on the other’s chest, and sighed. “I hope Bal’s okay.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean murmured and dragged his hand through Gabriel’s hair once more. “Me too.”  
  


~*~

  
  
"God, I leave you two alone for two days and you've already jumped in bed with each other. Bloody superheroes."  
  
"Get out of my bedroom, Crowley," Dean said without opening his eyes.  
  
"I have news that may interest and-or horrify you." Crowley was dressed in one of his impeccable suits, this one a striaght black one with an off-white shirt and yellow tie. It worked strangely well. The Demon didn't smile.  
  
"What kind of news?" He could feel Gabriel stir beside him, and shifted just a fraction closer. Unlike what some people (okay, most people, himself included) would have thought, he actually wanted Gabriel to stick around. Hopefully in his bed.  
  
Gabriel made a soft noise and turned around so he could lean his head on Dean’s shoulder.  
  
"Balthazar and I have found out where the Rubies are."  
  
"And?" Dean said. "That shouldn't be too hard."  
  
Crowley inspected his fingernails in the calm, sure way he did everything. "Yes, well. Little Bal is feeling a bit worse for wear today, I'm afraid."  
  
Dean sat up the exact same moment as Gabriel did, both wearing matching expressions of shock and horror. "You're kidding."  
  
" 'Fraid not, pumpkin," Crowley sighed as he leaned casually against the doorway. "I helped him onto the couch. He hasn't got long left, maybe an hour at the most."  
  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Dean muttered as he got on a pair of jeans. "Gabriel, we have to-"  
  
"I know," the Angel interrupted him. "I'll try."  
  


~*~

  
  
Balthazar looked like shit. Well, no, not really. He just looked like Sam had right before he died. His eyes were closed, his face feverish, and he was convulsing and twitching every now and then. A pained whimper escaped him.  
  
"Fuck," Dean said again. "I hate being right."  
  
“I removed the bullet,” Crowley said from the corner. “He managed to heal what he could before he slipped under.”  
  
Gabriel knelt in front of his nephew. "Bal, what the hell were you doing, going by yourself?" he murmured and stroked a thumb across the younger man's cheek. Then he put both palms on each side of the young Angel's face and closed his eyes.  
  
"Fuck, I hope this shit works," Dean muttered, sending a quick prayer to whatever God that might be inclined to listen.  
  
Then blue-white light started streaming out of Gabriel's fingers, lighting up Balthazar's skin until it was so bright Dean had to close his eyes. A sharp, loud noise filled the air, like static, and he groaned and put both hands over his ears.  
  
As soon as it started, it was over. Trembling, Dean opened his eyes. He was kneeling on the floor now as well, having collapsed some time during the burning. "Gabriel?"  
  
"Yeah." It was barely a croak, but the Angel moved from where he was slumped against Balthazar's still form. "I'm okay."  
  
"What about..." Dean crawled over to the couch, putting a hand on the Angel’s shoulder.  
  
"Bal?" Gabriel asked, shaking the younger Angel lightly. Absolutely nothing happened. Balthazar’s head lolled a bit from side to side, his face white and caught in a serene, sleeplike expression.  
  
"Well," Crowley said from the corner, "that was disappointing."  
  
Dean almost buckled from the sheer pain. He had vowed to himself not to hope, telling himself over and over and fucking _over_ that there was a very slim chance, if any at all, that he'd ever be able to get Sam back. But it had been there, lurking, and now that it was gone he couldn't breathe.  
  
Crowley sighed. "Look at you two, crying your eyes out." It was blunt, but not cruelly said, and only then did Dean notice that Gabriel was sobbing as well.  
  
"I killed him," the Angel got out, his hands shaking. "God, I just killed him."  
  
"No, no," Dean said and crawled all the way over to the other man. They clung to each other as Crowley murmured "I'll leave you alone," and left. Dean and Gabriel stayed on the floor, next to the dead Angel, clinging to each other as if their own, miserable lives depended on it. Gabriel buried his face into the hollow of Dean’s neck, sobbing out words without meaning as Dean grabbed the other man’s shirt hard enough to rip it. Gradually the tears stopped flowing, and Gabriel grew quiet in his arms. At one point they sort of slumped down onto the floor, curled around each other. Neither of them looked towards the couch.  
  
It wasn't until much later, when they were both out of tears and energy and everything else, that Dean said; "We have to bury him."  
  
Gabriel whimpered and pressed closer. They were lying on the floor, legs entwined, fully clothed and sweating because of the heat, but unwilling to let go of each other because they were all they had now.  
  
"And then," Dean murmured, feeling a familiar, deadly calm settle over him, "we're gonna kill the Rubies. All three of them." He turned feverish eyes to Gabriel. "And then we'll kill Sam and Cas too."  
  
"Dean, I can't. I just- I can't."  
  
"Then I'll do it alone."  
  
"You can't, you'll die," Gabriel protested weakly.  
  
Dean laughed bitterly. "I don't care. Hell, I've been looking for a good excuse to get myself killed for four fucking years, man. Least I can do is take down the bitches before I go."  
  
"Then... What about me?" Gabriel whispered.  
  
Dean was quiet for a long time. "I wish you could be enough, Gabe," he answered, and didn't say anything else.  
  


~*~

  
  
He didn't know when he fell asleep, only that he couldn’t have been gone for a long time. Dean blinked his eyes open sluggishly, feeling his back ache from having been in a bad angle too long - and stared back at a ghost.  
  
He did not scream. He might have yelped, just a little, but he didn't scream. "What the fuck?!"  
  
Okay, so maybe he yelled. He still didn't scream, though.  
  
"Easy, champ," Balthazar chuckled and stepped back. "I was only wondering why you and Gabriel are sleeping on the floor, looking like someone just died." At Dean's horrified stare, he quickly paled. "Oh God, someone died? Bloody hell, I am so sorry-"  
  
" _You_ died!" Dean said, and finally Gabriel was coming to as well, staring at Balthazar with the exact same expression as Dean.  
  
Balthazar frowned. "I did? I could have sworn I was still alive." He patted his chest lightly. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Bal," Gabriel whispered and stretched forward to touch the younger Angel.  
  
"Gabriel, are you all right?" Balthazar said, frowning.  
  
When the older Angel touched the younger one, Gabriel sobbed with relief and threw himself at his nephew.  
  
"I don't believe it," Dean said as he stood up. "And you feel fine? You remember us?"  
  
"Of course I remember you, Dean, I'm not bloody stupid, am I?" Balthazar grinned as he patted Gabriel reassuringly on the back. "Easy, uncle."  
  
Finally Gabriel seemed to pull himself together, and the two Angels sat down on the couch. "You got infected," Gabriel said.  
  
Balthazar frowned. "I don't recall that."  
  
"Crowley was there. He got you to us, and Gabriel burned you," Dean said, sitting down next to Gabriel. He leaned close.  
  
"Oh my." He looked down at himself once more. "I take it the burn worked?"  
  
"It must have, but I was so sure..." Gabriel trailed off and put a hand on the younger man's knee, as if to reassure himself the Angel was really there. The other one gripped Dean’s hand, as if to ground himself. "You were dead, Bal. I could feel your soul fade and vanish beneath my fingers."  
  
"Well," Balthazar said with a small smile, "I don't know what happened either. But I'm alive now, which means that something you did must have worked." His grin widened. "Which means that there may be a cure for Castiel and Sight as well."  
  
Something fluttered in his chest, and it felt like Dean could finally breathe. "God," he breathed out, "what if this actually works?"  
  
Gabriel smiled so widely at him, Dean had to laugh, and then had to kiss him too, just for good measure.  
  
Balthazar arched an amused eyebrow at them, but didn’t say anything.  
  


~*~

  
  
They devised a sort-of plan to rescue Castiel and Sam, the rest of the night ticking by in a decidedly more cheerful manner. By the time they were done, it was morning.  
  
“I’m exhausted,” Gabriel admitted. He had dark patches under his eyes, and he kept rubbing them and squinting at the papers lying on the table.  
  
“Me too,” Balthazar huffed. “I could sleep like the dead.” He glanced up at the two of them and quirked a smile. “Laugh. Both of you. Or I will hit you.”  
  
Both Dean and Gabriel huffed out similarly tired laughs, but Dean had to admit it was good to smile. “You can take Sam’s bed, Bal,” he nodded to the younger Angel before brushing off his jeans and walking towards his bedroom.  
  
“Oh?” Balthazar asked, smiling slyly.  
  
“Gabriel’s sleeping in my room,” Dean said, and added “shut up,” when he heard the younger Angel laugh in delight. “Gabe?”  
  
“I’m coming,” Gabriel chuckled and joined him.  
  
“Keep it down, will you?” Balthazar called out after them. “I really do need the sleep!”  
  
Dean gave him the finger before shutting the door. Only then, with only Gabriel in the room, he allowed himself to slump a little. “Thank God.”  
  
“We’re okay, Dean,” Gabriel whispered as if he knew exactly what Dean was thinking, and stepped close. He leaned his head against Dean’s shoulder. “We’re getting back both of them.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean’s fingers trembled only slightly when he trailed them through the shorter man’s hair. “Sleep with me?”  
  
Gabriel quirked a smile at him. “The no-sex kind? I’d love to.” He gave him a chaste kiss.  
  
They undressed and slipped into bed, immediately seeking out each other’s warmth under the covers. Gabriel was the natural small spoon, but he shook his head when Dean made a move to wrap his hands around him.  
  
“Uh-uh. Turn around, Winchester.”  
  
Frowning, Dean turned to his other side. Immediately Gabriel was there; his arm sliding over Dean’s shoulders and chest, all the way down until it rested against his hip. Gabriel scooted upwards in the bed so he could nuzzle his nose against Dean’s neck.  
  
“What are you doing?” Dean asked, faintly amused.  
  
“Being the big spoon,” Gabriel murmured, puffs of hot breath ghosting over Dean’s neck. “So you can let your guard down for a bit.”  
  
“I don’t,” Dean mumbled and didn’t quite know how to finish that sentence.  
  
“I know,” Gabriel replied as if he had any idea at all what Dean was talking about. “We’re a lot alike, you know that?”  
  
Dean turned a little so he was lying on his back, looking into the Angel’s eyes. “In what sense?” He entwined his fingers with the other man’s.  
  
“We’re pretty good at taking care of stuff and others, and absolute _crap_ at taking care of ourselves,” Gabriel said with a half-smile.  
  
Dean huffed a laugh and closed his eyes. “You’re not wrong.” He turned fully towards the smaller man, but curled in on himself so he would still be the little spoon. “If you tell anyone, I will cut your dick off.”  
  
Gabriel chuckled and kissed his temple.  
  
They slept without nightmares.  
  


~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: character deaths, grief, mourning. Very brief implied self-harm (light, nothing graphic).

  
_"Emmanuel, baby," She murmured. "Someone's coming to take you away from us."  
  
"Please, Emmanuel," She whimpered, "help us. Protect us."  
  
"I will," he vowed. "Until my dying breath."  
  
"Thank you, Emmanuel," She sighed.  
  
"Go, Emmanuel. Kill them," They said.  
  
And he went._   
  


~*~

  
  
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Dean looked around. "I mean, I get it, but it seems kinda..."  
  
"Ironic?" Gabriel supplied, looking at the church. "Yeah." His false appearance shivered around him, like a thin layer of electricity. Dean had shifted as well.  
  
It was an old, large stone church, mossy-green and grey outer walls sharply contrasting the sun-browned grass surrounding it. There was a sign outside that read “God walks among us”, and beneath it someone had scribbled “And my name is Chuck”.  
  
"This is it, I'm sure," Balthazar nodded. "This is where they got me. They should all be here somewhere."  
  
"Are you coming with us, Crowley?" Dean said and turned to the Demon.  
  
Crowley smiled, almost politely. "No."  
  
"Nah, wouldn't have thought so either," Dean said with a grim smile.  
  
Crowley shrugged. "Self-preservation," he said. "But I do have these." And he produced three small pouches. They smelled like lavender and bones.  
  
"Hex bags?" Balthazar asked.  
  
The Demon nodded. "For protection against the blood. If you get infected, this should at least keep the infection at bay until you are well and safe - or at least elsewhere."  
  
They each took one and stuffed them into their pockets. “Thank you,” Balthazar nodded at the Demon, who winked at him.  
  
The doors opened, and the two first black-eyed guards (although the term 'slaves' was perhaps more appropriate) walked out to greet them. Their skin was crisscrossed with tar-like, black lines.  
  
"Gentlemen, this is my cue to leave," Crowley said with a grin. "Best of luck." And then he walked away, casual as freaking ever.  
  
"Gotta admit," Gabriel said, "guy's got style."  
  
"That he has," Dean mumbled absentmindedly as he watched the two guards draw closer. "Gabe, on my left. Bal, you go on my right."  
  
"Got it, pumpkin," Balthazar nodded and drew his knife. Guns didn't work on these possessed humans, but a certain type of knife seemed to do the trick. It had to be branded with a special set of symbols, and they were rare and extremely valuable.  
  
Dean had two of them, naturally.  
  
They managed to get inside the church fairly easily, and it wasn't until they'd disposed of seven of the Rubies' guards without finding the damn women that trouble truly reared its head.  
  
"Fuck," Dean said when he saw the approaching figure, and Balthazar whimpered.  
  
Castiel Novak walked towards them, calm and collected and as alive-looking as always, the black eyes a sharp contrast to the pale skin. There were fine threads of black spreading across his face, like veins. He was wearing a black, simple suit and a twisted, wide smile. "Hey there!" he said, voice too high and happy to be anything but creepy.  
  
"Castiel," Balthazar whispered and took one step forward.  
  
"Who, me?" Castiel threw his head back and giggled, cold and hard, and it was so unlike the voice Dean had earlier heard from Sparrow he shivered. "Castiel is dead. Gone." His smile was feral, all his teeth on display. “I run the show now.” Every movement was fast, chopped - almost robotic. Like whatever was driving Castiel hadn't quite figured out the finer controls yet.  
  
"But... Don't you remember me?" Balthazar sounded so pleading, so incredibly hopeless.  
  
"I told you, Bal," Dean murmured to the trembling Angel, "they make you forget. Sam was the exact same way - kept telling me his name was Meg." He stared defiantly at the slave. "What's your name, then?"  
  
"Emmanuel," was the immediate response, Castiel cocking his head and staring at Dean like a steak he couldn’t wait to eat.  
  
"How long have you been here, Emmanuel?" It was the first thing Gabriel had said out loud since Castiel arrived, and his voice was hoarse.  
  
"Two and a half years," Castiel told them. "They took care of me." Then he flared out his wings and licked his lips, making some sort of purring sound. “Bored now.” And pounced.  
  
Dean had to admit it - the guy was good. Every time they thought they had him, trapped him in a corner, he would spread his brown wings and then suddenly be out of reach. Again and again they tried, but he was always just out of reach, evading their attacks. He slashed Dean’s shoulder at one point, and Balthazar was bleeding badly from his side, but the younger Angel had waved him off when he wanted to ask. Gabriel was the only one of them that hadn’t bled yet.  
  
And then Ruby One showed up. "Such a good boy, Emmanuel," she sang. Then she turned to Gabriel, sneered at him and lifted her hands, palms reaching outwards. The Angel barely had time to duck for cover before a blast of fire erupted on the exact spot he'd been standing seconds before.  
  
"Goddammit!" Dean swore and rolled over, taking his gun out. He didn't know if bullets worked on these broads, but he wasn't gonna suffer from lack of trying. “Hey, bitch!” he yelled to get her attention away from Gabriel.  
  
He missed the first shot. The second as well. Ruby laughed and sent more fire balls, this time after him, and his shirt caught on fire. Even though he rolled around on the dusty ground, extinguishing the fire quickly, he could still feel the raw skin from where the flames had licked.  
  
"Where's Sam?!" he bellowed, and the Demon laughed.  
  
"You mean Meg? He got a promotion as our personal guard." She sent him another insane smile, teeth gleaming in the semi-darkness. "He's special, Dean. You should be proud."  
  
"Fucking bitch," Dean gritted out and pulled the trigger. This time he hit her square in the chest.  
  
On the down side, she didn't die. On the upside, though, she screamed and clawed at her chest to try and get the bullet out; giving Dean time to run over to her.  
  
Gabriel was back and upright; he and Balthazar still struggling to get a hold of Castiel without killing him, but Dean had no such qualms with Ruby One. He pulled out his knife and shoved it into her throat. The energy surge he felt when her soul burned to dust, hearing her dying scream, made him feel almost euphoric. When the body slumped to the ground, eyes once again brown and normal-looking, he took a deep breath and turned to have a look at the overall situation.  
  
Gabriel was limping, but Balthazar seemed the same as before. They almost had Castiel trapped again, and this time they were moving towards Dean, the possessed Angel with his back towards the Hunter. Dean stayed where he was, being quiet as not to alert Castiel of his presence, and the next time the Angel spread his wings to fly off, Dean leaped forward and grabbed a hold of them, pulling down as hard as he could.  
  
Castiel screamed. It was a sound of raw, pure _agony_ , and it made Dean's head hurt to listen to. Both the other Angels winced visibly as well, and for one moment everything was still. Then Balthazar surged forward to seize Castiel by the arms, whispered "I will see you on the other side, brother," and Gabriel put his hands on the black-eyed Angel's face.  
  
This time Dean closed his eyes immediately, and he let go of the Angel's wings and clamped his hands over his ears. It still hurt, but not as bad as the first time. Castiel screamed again, sounding like a wounded animal more than a man, and then everything got deadly quiet.  
  
"Are you guys all right?" Dean asked when he dared to open his eyes once more. Castiel slumped against him, unconscious or dead, and he caught the man before he could fall to the floor.  
  
"I'll be okay," Balthazar gritted out, clutching his side. There was blood there now. "I'm healing myself as we speak. Cas got me good."  
  
"Gabe?" Dean asked.  
  
Gabriel nodded weakly, hunched over and trembling with the effort. "I'm, I'm fine," he gasped out. "Just need to... get my breath back."  
  
"What do we do with this one?" Dean asked, gesturing to the unconscious Angel he was holding.  
  
"I'll take him with me," Balthazar said. "I can go back in after you."  
  
"No, that's too risky. You can't wander around here without backup," Dean protested.  
  
"Fine, then I'll stay in the bloody car," Balthazar snapped. "Just let me get my brother out of here, all right?"  
  
Sighing, Dean finally nodded. "Go on. And be careful."  
  
"Of course I'll be careful, I'm not daft." Balthazar lifted Castiel, hoisting him over one shoulder, and slowly started making his way over to the exit. Castiel’s wings dragged against the ground, limp and lifeless.  
  
"Right, just like you weren't 'daft' when you came here yesterday, _alone_ ," Dean pointed out after him  
  
"Kiss my arse, Winchester."  
  
Shaking his head, he went over to the remaining Angel, helping him to stand straight. "You ready for another go, Gabe?" he said, plastering a smile on his face even if he felt sick. Next up was Sam. What if it was too late? What if they had to kill him? What if Sam killed Gabriel?  
  
The last thought filled him with a deeper panic than Dean had anticipated.  
  
"Yeah," Gabriel sighed and leaned a little against him. “I’ll be okay.” He glanced over at Dean and frowned. “Hey. Don’t freak out on me now, Winchester.”  
  
Dean startled, and swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry. It’s just...”  
  
“Sam,” Gabriel murmured.  
  
“Yeah.” Dean took a deep breath and gave the man another smile, a real one this time. “You remember the plan?”  
  
Gabriel just rolled his eyes and kissed him. “Let’s go get your brother back.” His face was flushed and gleaming with sweat from the strain of the burning, but he walked okay even with the limp so Dean figured he would be be okay.  
  
He kept close anyway.  
  


~*~

  
  
Dean didn't even see his brother before he was flung headfirst into the wall.  
  
"Sonofa _bitch_!" he grunted, feeling sticky wetness on the side of his head. It throbbed like a motherfucker, and he couldn't move a muscle. "You've had training since I last saw you, Sammy."  
  
"I remember you," Sam said and cocked his head as he stepped closer to him. "You're that annoying dude who keeps calling me Sammy. How are you doing, _brother_?"  
  
The mocking tone of the familiar name hurt almost as much as the head wound, but Dean refused to let it show. "Peachy," he gritted out. "About to get better once I kick your Gigantor ass, baby bro."  
  
Sam laughed, a cold, cruel laugh that didn't fit his looks at all. He was different than Castiel, Dean noticed - with eerie, yellow eyes instead of black ones. The black lines on his face were more pronounced as well, spread in a neat pattern all over his skin, like poison. "Really? Then why don't you just throw a punch at me, then?" He stepped closer, so close he was pressing against Dean. "Come on, big brother. Hurt me."  
  
Dean was trembling from the strain of trying to move. In a desperate effort he looked around after something he could move with his mind, but Sam noticed and smirked.  
  
"Need a weapon, Dean? Here." And he pulled out the Colt - the fucking Ruby-blood _Colt_ \- and opened his palm. "Make the weapon float to you there, Psychic Boy."  
  
It didn't move. Of course it didn't. Gasping with the effort, Dean gave up and closed his eyes.  
  
"No? Well, that's disappointing. Personally I'd love to stay and chat, but They don't want you in the club." A sickening smile. "I'm special. And you're... not." And then he slowly clenched his fist.  
  
Something ripped through Dean, sending crippling waves of white-laced pain down his chest. He screamed as blood started gushing out of the wounds, staining his Led Zeppelin t-shirt maroon, the agony nearly enough to whisk him into unconsciousness. "Sam, please," he got out. His voice was rough and trembling, and he didn't care that he was pleading to a soulless bastard. "Sammy, please don't kill me."  
  
"Oh, Dean-o," Sam sing-sang and twisted his hand to the right. Dean screamed again as new trails of blood started running down, soaking his t-shirt and jeans.  
  
"I love you, Sammy," Dean whispered. "No matter what, you'll always be my little brother."  
  
"That's so cute," Sam said coldly. "Now, let's see what we can-" And then Gabriel was finally near enough to pounce on the taller man and grip his face with both hands.  
  
"Oh, thank God," Dean groaned as he slumped to the ground, no longer held up by Sam's powers.  
  
His brother jerked and screamed, trying to get away from the burn, and Dean not so much closed his eyes as simply faded away for a little while. When he came back to, it was from Gabriel shaking him.  
  
“Dean? Shit, Dean, are you alive?”  
  
“So far, so good,” Dean grunted and coughed up some blood.  
  
“Fuck, c’mon,” Gabriel said, helping him onto his feet and paling when his hands came away bloody. “Are you-“  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Dean got out.  
  
“We need to get out of here; Balthazar can heal you once we're out of Dodge. You’re bleeding badly. Can you help me with your brother? He’s heavy.”  
  
Dean nodded, and when Gabriel lifted one of Sam’s arms over his head he grabbed a hold of it. He staggered a little under the added weight, but it wasn’t too bad.  
  
“You okay?” Gabriel asked again.  
  
“I’m fine, Gabriel,” Dean said. “We gotta get out of here before Demon bitch Two and Three arrive.” Slowly, they half-dragged, half-carried Sam out of the building. They didn't meet any other enemies until they got outside.  
  
"R- Ruby Two?" Gabriel gasped out as they gazed at the small, blonde woman standing in the middle of the parking lot.  
  
"No," she smirked and rubbed her palms together. "I'm Ruby Three. Pleasure to meet you."  
  
"Fuck," Gabriel said and ducked, dragging Sam with him out of range.  
  
Dean, unfortunately, wasn't that lucky. The blast hit him square in the chest, and without so much as a sound he toppled backwards, eyes rolling into his skull as he was whisked away into darkness.  
  
It didn't hurt at all.  
  


~*~

  
  
It was the noise that woke him. Blinking his eyes open, a throbbing headache pounding inside his skull, Castiel sat up and wondered where the hell he was. After a quick glance at his surroundings, he recognized the church where the Rubies had their headquarters. It felt like there was a vacant space in his head, his memory, and he bet they were the reason for it.  
  
Almost immediately after that revelation, he realized there was a fight going on.  
  
Ruby Three was there, pouring energy into something outside his line of vision, and judging by her mad cackling, she was winning. Which meant that no matter who that other person was, it was most likely a superhero or an innocent. He got to his feet, shakily, and flapped his wings to see if they were still working. They were, thank God, even though they were sore as hell for some odd reason.  
  
With a smirk, he folded them out and flew forward, crashing into Ruby Three from behind. She yelped in surprise, and he gripped her head with both hands and twisted it as hard as he could to one side. With a sickening crack her neck snapped, and she fell to the ground without a sound, dead.  
  
Heaving, feeling strangely fatigued after just a tiny flight, Castiel shook his head and stood straight. And gaped. "It can't be. You can't be- who are you?"  
  
The man sighed out in relief. "Oh, thank God you're okay, Cas," he said. "And yeah, I’m me. I’m still me."  
  
"But Gabriel, you're _dead_." He took a trembling step backwards, readying himself to fly away.  
  
"It's a long story, Cas," Gabriel said and stepped closer. "One which I'll tell you pretty soon, but right now we need to check on Bal and Dean."  
  
"But I- wait, Balthazar's here?" Castiel asked, dread twisting in his stomach. "And- who's Dean?" He was dizzy, as if all the information had made his brain overheat and crash.  
  
"You probably know him as The Righteous Man," Gabriel said as he made his way over to the place where Ruby Three had been focusing her energy. It was behind some parked cars. "And the unconscious guy over there is Sam, aka Sight, aka Dean's brother." He crouched down. "Dean? You okay?"  
  
There was no answer, and Castiel looked around. "Balthazar?" He saw his brother sitting inside the car. "Bal, are you all right?" He got over to the car, shaking him, and Balthazar's head lolled gently. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping. "Bal? Sweetie? Please wake up."  
  
He didn't wake up. Finally, with trembling hands, Castiel checked his pulse and found none.  
  
"No, no, no," he murmured and checked his boyfriend over. "Where are you hurt, let me fix it..." he couldn't see what was wrong, which meant he couldn't fix it, which meant that- "Goddammit, Balthazar, I just got back. Don't do this." He leaned back out. "Gabriel! I need some help here!"  
  
The other Angel didn't answer.  
  
"Gabriel! Goddammit, get over here! I don't know what's wrong with him, I just woke up!"  
  
Then he saw Gabriel rise slowly, eyes closed. "Ruby Three," he said slowly, too calmly, "was a burner. A powerful one." He was trembling from head to toes, eyes shiny with unshed tears.  
  
Castiel took a step back, bumping against the car's side door. "No."  
  
"I recognize the- from when I-" Gabriel shuddered out a breath. "I can burn too, Cas. I learned it from Raphael. And this, this is-" he didn't finish the sentence. "I need physical contact," he continued instead, the trembling more pronounced. "But burning is only my secondary power. Ruby Three was a burner by nature, which meant she could do it from a distance, and faster too. God, Dean... Balthazar..." he swallowed. "We need to get them out of here. Help me with Sam, Cas. Please."  
  
Numb, feeling as if he was dreaming, he walked over to the older, supposedly-but-obviously-not-dead Angel. They lifted the tall, unconscious man called Sam into the car, and then lifted Dean in too. Getting Balthazar to fit in there as well was the hardest part, and they had to cram them together. Then they drove away in a haze.  
  
The knowledge of driving with at least two dead people in the backseat, one of whom was the most important person in Castiel's very _existence_ , made him want to hurl. He pressed his fingers into the leather of his seat and tried to breathe, to think, to function.  
  
There had to be a way to fix this.  
  
There _had_ to.  
  


~*~

  
  
"Oh my," Crowley said quietly when they showed him the bodies.  
  
"Please tell me you can do something about this," Gabriel begged. He was holding Dean’s hand, Castiel noticed absentmindedly, so hard the older Angel’s knuckles were white.  
  
"I could lie, if it would make you feel better," the Demon sighed.  
  
"So they're really..." Castiel whispered.  
  
"Dead? Yes. And you're back, I see."  
  
" _Fuck_ ," Gabriel wheezed out and crumpled.  
  
"Go inside, both of you," Crowley said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. "And bring Sam with you. I will take care of the bod- of Dean and Balthazar."  
  
Castiel just nodded, getting Gabriel off the ground. “Come on, uncle.”  
  
Gabriel stared up at him, blinking slowly as the family name registered with him. “Dean,” he whispered, and Castiel nodded once more and grabbed a hold of Gabriel’s shoulders.  
  
“I know,” he said, even though he was sure he didn't. He brushed away the tears on Gabriel's face, took a deep, shaky breath, and with the older Angel’s help he got Sam out of the back seat. As they did so, Balthazar's body rolled over, and it made a sick sort of thud against the leather. Castiel had to close his eyes and breathe through his mouth as to not throw up.  
  
It seemed like an eternity before the two Angels were back in the Righteous's apartment, Sam safely put in his own bed, the two of them sitting in the sofa.  
  
 _Everything here is owned by a dead man,_ Castiel thought numbly. _A dead man who risked his life to save mine and Sam's._ He looked over at Gabriel and wondered just what the relationship had been between the two of them.  
  
His supposedly-dead uncle. In one day, Castiel had gained an almost-father and lost everything else. He turned to Gabriel. "Tell me," he said, ignoring the tears trailing down his cheeks. "Tell me your story."  
  
Gabriel did.  
  


~*~

  
  
They buried Balthazar on a Thursday. It left Castiel with a bitter taste in his mouth, that his brother, lover and best friend was buried on the day of his name. They buried Dean the same afternoon.  
  
Gabriel had known. Balthazar had told him about their complex relationship, and Dean as well, and neither of them had been disgusted or repulsed. In fact, Gabriel had seemed genuinely happy for them, which if possible made the loss even harder to bear. To know that if he had just told Balthazar about the blood, that he got infected, or if he hadn't gotten infected at all... his brother would maybe have been alive today.  
  
"Did you love him?" Castiel asked, as the two of them stared at Dean’s grave. It was a sunny day, the wind barely caressing their faces.  
  
"I don't know," Gabriel answered. The older Angel had withdrawn into himself after that first night, and barely ate or slept. He only spoke when first spoken to. "He never gave me the chance to find out, the bastard." His voice broke on the last syllable, and he turned away from Castiel. And if that wasn’t evidence enough, Castiel didn’t know what else would be.  
  
The younger Angel stepped close and pulled an arm around the slightly smaller man, pressing his forehead against Gabriel's temple. He stared down at the dirt-covered coffin. It was expensive mahogany, beautiful, just like Balthazar’s. It had been a last gift from Crowley, before the Demon had left the town to track down Ruby Two. “I’m so sorry,” Castiel murmured.  
  
He looked down at Dean’s tomb stone, grey and cold marble against the green grass and the rich dirt.   
  


_Here lies Dean Michael Winchester  
January 24th 1979 - May 2nd 2008_

  
  
“ _All men's souls are immortal, but the souls of the righteous are immortal and divine,_ ” Castiel murmured, reading out loud the bottom part. “It’s very fitting, Gabriel.”  
  
Gabriel turned to him without a word, pressed his tear-stained face against the hollow of his nephew’s throat, and sobbed. He shook silently in Castiel’s arms as they stood there for hours, the smell of fresh dirt in their nostrils.  
  


~*~

  
  
Five days came and went before Sam woke up, the black lines on his skin completely gone. By then, his brother had been buried for two days.  
  
"Sam," Gabriel said gently, and the young Hunter's eyes focused on him. "Do you know who I am?"  
  
Sam shook his head.  
  
"Do you remember who you are? Who Dean is?"  
  
"I- yeah," he said, voice rough from lack of use. "Of course I do. He's my brother. Where is he?"  
  
"What's the last thing you remember?" Gabriel avoided the Hunter's question. Castiel watched from the doorway.  
  
"Um..." Sam closed his eyes and frowned in concentration. "I was supposed to go check something out for Dean, this church on... was it 56th Street?" The last part was almost a question. "Why, what's wrong?"  
  
Gabriel sighed. "Okay, Sam, I'm Gabriel Novak. That is my nephew Castiel. We're Angels, and you've been possessed until recently."  
  
"Possessed? By whom?"  
  
Somehow it seemed so funny, that even in this bizarre situation the man had proper pronunciation, Castiel had to bite his lip not to have a highly inappropriate fit of giggles.  
  
"The Rubies."  
  
"Oh." Sam blinked. "I remember that now," he said suddenly. "That they were in the church, with the Colt. But after that... nothing. How long was I possessed? And why am I okay now?"  
  
"You've been gone for four years and two months."  
  
Sam looked shell-shocked. "I- what?" And then he started looking around. "Where's Dean? I gotta talk to him, he's probably freaking out or doing something stupid as usual-“  
  
"Dean's dead." It was out of his mouth long before Castiel realized himself, and he could have kicked himself when he saw the younger Winchester crumple.  
  
"Dean," he whimpered, and Gabriel laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam, but it's true."  
  
"When- _how? Why_?"  
  
And then they had to tell the whole story again. Castiel left halfway through, after the part where he was burned. He knew what had happened afterward and he didn't need another reminder.  
  
God, he wanted to die. But it would be like spitting on his brother's grave, after he died to get Castiel out of the Rubies' grasp. The very least he owed Balthazar - and the man who still owned this apartment - was to keep breathing. Keep fighting.  
  
Keep faking.  
  


~*~

  
  
They went with Sam to show him where Dean’s grave was. While the two other men were grieving there, Castiel walked across the graveyard to locate Balthazar’s grave. It was a shiny black tomb stone, Bal’s full name carved on it. Castiel let his hand trail over the writing, reading the last part over and over again. _Revelations are found in clouds_.  
  
He sat down next to it, and didn’t say anything. Just tended to the flowers there, removing the dead ones and promising Balthazar in his mind to get him some new ones. Castiel didn’t speak out loud; that would make it too real.  
  
After an hour, they went home.  
  


~*~

  
  
The days passed agonizingly slowly, but it still came as a shock to Castiel the day he realized his brother had been dead for two months. Not a minute went by without Castiel thinking of Balthazar, remembering the older man’s smile and laughter, the way his eyes would always flick to Castiel’s wings when he came out of the shower. How grumpy he was in the morning and how heavily he always took it when he lost a patient in the hospital. How he would draw on his own healing energy as long as possible to save everyone in his care. The way he never gave up.  
  
“It’s been two months,” Castiel said out loud, clutching his newspaper.  
  
“I know,” Gabriel replied next to him. “It’s surreal, isn’t it?” he peered at Castiel, who nodded.  
  
“I’m not gonna comment on that,” Sam sighed next to them. Sam was currently going through newspaper archives and such on his laptop, trying to figure out everything that had happened while he was gone. It had been a difficult transition for him, to jump from 2004 right to 2008.   
  
The three of them still lived in Dean’s apartment. Over the course of these two months, Castiel had made a mental picture of the man behind Righteous’s mask through Sam, Gabriel and the apartment’s memories, and had grown fond of Dean. He grieved the thought that he had never met him alive without each of them wearing masks, had never learned to know the man that had risked his life to save Castiel’s and Sam’s.  
  
Sam had taken over Dean’s old job at Singer’s garage, and Gabriel had gotten Balthazar’s job at the hospital. He worked alongside Castiel, now, and the two of them had steadily gotten closer during the time they had spent together. Castiel had missed his uncle all these years, even if he was only a child when Gabriel ‘died’, but the knowledge of having family alongside him in his period of mourning was indescribable. It didn’t help him forget the pain of having Balthazar ripped from him so soon, and it didn’t stop the nightmares that kept him awake and crying almost every night. But those nights he would walk into Gabriel’s bedroom, which had once been Dean’s, and slip under the covers alongside his uncle. And Gabriel, awake or not, would always pull him close as if he was still a child. Then they would sleep restlessly together.  
  
Crowley hadn’t contacted them since the funerals, though he had told them that Ruby Two and the rest of her goons had split, and the church was empty and clean. Neither Gabriel nor Castiel knew how to contact the demon, since it was Dean that had been sitting on the information. All the information was still there, locked inside Dean’s own laptop, but they hadn’t been able to get past the password protection yet. Sam tried different combinations a few times each day.  
  


~*~

  
  
Castiel was going through the laundry, finally getting to the bottom of the heap (the two other men hated doing the laundry), when he found a small pouch hidden under a mess of Gabriel’s dirty clothes. “Gabriel?” he called out, stepping into the living room. “What’s this?”  
  
Gabriel paled. “It’s um, a hex bag,” he said. “Crowley gave them to us in when we went to rescue you, in case we would get infected.” He didn’t meet Castiel’s gaze.  
  
“Oh,” Castiel said quietly. “I guess you didn’t need them after all.”  
  
“No.” Gabriel’s eyes were shiny.  
  
Castiel put the small pouch down on the coffee table, and sat down in the couch close to his uncle. The two of them just sat there for a while, staring and thinking. Remembering.  
  
“Hey guys, I think I found-” Sam walked in, noticed the pouch, and went rigid.  
  
“Sam?” Gabriel asked, wary.  
  
“What’s that?” Sam asked, nodding towards it.  
  
“It’s a hex bag, Crowley gave it to us when we went to rescue you. It was supposed to keep us safe in case we got infected.”  
  
Sam nodded jerkily, but didn’t stop staring at the small pouch as if it had suddenly started talking or something similarly crazy. “Dean and Balthazar had ones as well?” he asked, voice rough as if he hadn’t been talking in ages.  
  
Gabriel nodded.  
  
“You sure you’re okay, Sam?” Castiel asked gently. Sam’s face was ashen.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I- yeah,” Sam whispered. “Where are Dean and Balthazar’s… hex bags?”  
  
“They were on them when…” Gabriel trailed off.  
  
Sam let out a long exhale, before he finally tore his gaze away from the small pouch. “Okay,” he said with a thoroughly fake smile. “I was just saying that I finally cracked open Dean’s laptop.”  
  
“Really?” Castiel said, excited even if he was still watching Sam closely. “What was it?”  
  
“Zero-Five Zero-Two Zero-Eight Sammy,” Sam said, the fake smile slipping off to reveal the familiar mask of pain he used to wear.  
  
“May Second 2008,” Gabriel said quietly. “The day he died. How-” he swallowed and averted his gaze.  
  
“He must have done it just a few days before,” Sam replied quietly. “I think it represented the day he would- he would get me back.” He gripped the door frame hard. “I just- thought you’d like to know. I’ll start to go through his files now, see if there’s… anything we can finish for him.” And with that quiet remark, he turned on his heel and went back. Not before giving the hex bag one last glance, though.  
  
The silence reigned. Neither Castiel nor Gabriel moved for a long time, but finally Castiel turned a little towards Gabriel. “Why do you think Sam is lying to us?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Gabriel replied. “But he looked terrified enough that I’m not gonna call him on it yet.”  
  
Castiel nodded seriously.  
  


~*~

  
  
“Gabriel?” Sam asked the next day. “What did you do with the hex bag?”  
  
“Put it in my room,” Gabriel shrugged as he made himself breakfast. “Why?”  
  
Castiel followed the exchange silently, sitting by the kitchen table. He pretended to read the morning newspaper. In truth, he was keeping his wings in check while following the conversation.   
  
His wings strained from being tucked in tight against his body for too long; he hadn’t stretched them in almost four weeks. He told Gabriel that it was because they took so much space in the room; that he didn’t want to bother him and Sam with it. Truth be told, it had nothing to do with that. Castiel suspected it was his own personal torture; a small measure of physical pain to relieve from some of the emotional. Besides. His wings reminded him of Bal, about the two of them fighting crime together. Bal loved his wings, said they were the most beautiful sight he could think of. Said that Castiel’s name, Sparrow, was silly, because it would be more fitting to call him Eagle or Falcon. Or even Swan. ‘Tawny Swan’, Bal would tease, and then Castiel would hit him playfully with his wings and tell him to shut up.  
  
Or how, in cold nights when they couldn’t afford to keep the heating on, Castiel would wrap his wings around them both, and Bal’s eyes would glow with pride and happiness in the darkness, and he’d whisper how lucky he was to have Castiel.  
  
As if Castiel wasn’t the lucky one of them.  
  
Castiel hated his wings now, after Balthazar’s death.  
  
“Could I… take a look at it?” Sam asked. “I wanted to see what was in it. Just, you know, in case we need to make another sometime, or something like. That.” His speaking was stunted, and he truly was a horrible liar, Castiel mused. He wondered how the Winchester had kept from blowing his cover all those years as a vigilante.  
  
“Sure, go ahead,” Gabriel replied and nodded towards Dean’s- Gabriel’s- room. “It’s on the top shelf in the corner.”  
  
Sam nodded, grateful.  
  
“Hey, Cas,” Gabriel said, “you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Castiel said and tried to smile. He was trembling a bit from the strain of keeping his wings in. They were screaming in agony now, screaming with the want of being let loose. Castiel felt a grim satisfaction of denying their want.  
  
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Gabriel prodded.  
  
“I’m _fine_.”  
  
Gabriel arched an eyebrow, but let it go. Sam came back from the bedroom clutching the tiny pouch, brows furrowed in concentration, and disappeared into his own room without acknowledging either of the two men. His door slammed shut behind him.  
  
“God, how come everyone has PMS this morning?” Gabriel muttered.  
  


~*~

  
  
Sam didn’t come to dinner. When Castiel knocked on his door, the Winchester shouted “I’m busy! I’ll just grab something later, okay?”  
  
Castiel just shrugged at Gabriel, who pursed his lips but didn’t say anything.  
  
They didn’t see Sam for the rest of the day, or the day after.  
  


~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Meta, blink-and-you'll-miss-it necrophilia? (One chaste kiss; nothing sexual)

  
“Do you know what soul currency is?” Sam asked Friday when he walked out of his room, halting to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room.  
  
“Yeah,” Gabriel replied at the same time Castiel said “Soul currency?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam said and nodded eagerly at Castiel. He looked ragged and disheveled, and like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a good while, but he was wearing a tired smile.  
  
“Where the hell were you these past days, man?” Gabriel said accusingly. "We thought you might have died in there." The joke wasn't too soon, but Castiel flinched a little anyway.  
  
Sam waved him off. “Souls,” he explained to Castiel, “are extremely valuable. First of all, every human has one. Secondly, there is just one per person.”  
  
“Why would you need more than one, then?” Castiel asked, keeping his wings from trembling. They ached now, and he cherished the physical pain.  
  
“Because they serve as energy,” Gabriel cut in. “And the stronger the human, the stronger the soul. It’s one of the reasons the Rubies took prisoners like the two of you; by possessing you and ‘borrowing’ your souls, for the lack of a better expression, they could feed off your energy infinitely as long as they kept it contained.”  
  
“So…” Castiel frowned. “That’s one of the reasons they were so powerful?”  
  
“One of them, yes,” Sam nodded. “See, it’s a small trade, but there are people in this world - mostly Demons, although I’ve heard of the occasional Hunter - that trade souls. It’s a very lucrative business.”  
  
“How can you trade them?” Castiel asked. “I thought they were pretty attached to our bodies.”  
  
“They are,” Sam said. “At least as long as we’re alive.”  
  
Gabriel was staring at Sam now, with an expression like he was on the verge of discovering something. “Sam,” he said quietly.  
  
Sam sent him a pleading look before turning back to Castiel. “If someone steals your soul when you die, it lives on. If not, then it just sorta… floats away into the ether, I guess? Or moves on to whatever afterlife there is.”  
  
“So they become ghosts.”  
  
“No,” Sam said and sat down in the chair opposite of the couch. “Because the souls are energy, they don’t have corporeal forms. Which means you could store them wherever, and the people they belong to wouldn’t be able to tell, because their physical bodies would still be dead.”  
  
“So… How do you know? If someone stole a person’s soul or not?”  
  
“The bodies left behind,” Gabriel whispered, face ashen. “If the soul is missing, the body cannot die fully. It goes into a stasis. It doesn’t decompose. A few wealthy people have actually used that as a sort of life insurance.”  
  
“But…” Castiel felt so lost, and his wings twitched violently. “Does that mean they can’t die, then?”  
  
Sam shook his head. “Not really. They’re still dead, just not… _completely_ dead. Mostly dead,” he added as an afterthought. “You would still need a proper resurrection ritual to get their corporeal bodies working again, and hopefully a healer nearby to fix whatever wounds might be there from before. And even then there is no guarantee the dead person will come back the way they were. Sometimes it goes horribly wrong. Sometimes it just doesn’t work.”  
  
Castiel rubbed a hand across his face tiredly. Too much information. “So… why are you telling us this?” he finally asked. “What’s it got to do with us?”  
  
Sam swallowed and glanced at Gabriel. “The hex bags.”  
  
“No,” Gabriel whispered, and Sam nodded silently.  
  
“What?” Castiel asked, barely keeping his wings from flaring out. “The ones Crowley gave you against the possession?”  
  
“That fucking bastard,” Gabriel snarled. “I’m gonna kill him.”  
  
“They’re not hex bags, Cas,” Sam murmured. “In the Dark trade, they’re sometimes referred to as ‘soul catchers’. Whenever a soul departs from its host’s body, it will instantly get sucked into the bag and stay there until it is retrieved.”  
  
“But they got-“ And Castiel got it. “Crowley,” he whispered. “He took them when he fixed the funerals. He’s using them for trade.”  
  
“Maybe he’s just using them himself,” Sam said. “If he’s already sold them, I’m not sure how we can get them back.” He was wringing his hands.  
  
“We can put a gun to his head?” Gabriel said with deadly calm. “I bet that would clear up quite a few things.”  
  
“But do we know?” Castiel asked, desperate. Already hope was filling him to the brim, and he couldn’t take that if it turned out to be futile. His wings shivered and twitched, and he winced perceptively with pain. “I can’t-“  
  
“I know,” Sam said, and the pain in his eyes matched Castiel’s own. “I won’t allow myself to believe either. But there is one bullet-proof way to find out whether their souls are still around or not.”  
  
“How?” Castiel asked, barely keeping himself from grabbing Sam’s shirt and yanking him close like they did in movies. Instead he gripped the couch cushion and squeezed it as hard as he could.  
  
“We have to dig up their graves, don’t we?” Gabriel asked hoarsely beside them, and Sam bowed his head. “Jesus Christ, Sam. How do you-“ he cut himself off and shook his head, before he got to his feet and stalked into his room. The door slammed shut and Sam winced.  
  
“He’s not mad at you,” Castiel whispered, rubbing furiously at his eyes. Balthazar and Dean could be alive. Well. Mostly dead. Castiel sent a prayer to the sky, hoping his Heavenly Father would help him. He was an Angel, after all; his family name might help him out here.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Sam whispered, red-rimmed eyes avoiding his. “I had to be sure there was a possibility. I still don’t know if-“  
  
“I know. But we have to see. I have to know, now.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” Then he rose silently and went into his own room.  
  
As soon as he was alone, Castiel let his wings out with a bit-off groan. They flared out, joints aching, feathers poking out at the wrong angles. Castiel lay on his stomach as his wings fluttered and got used to the space, sobbing as much for the absence of physical pain as for the hope of getting his brother back.  
  


~*~

  
  
It was a warm August night when they sneaked into the graveyard, each of them bearing their own shovel. They tiptoed around, wary of any and all noises, and startled every time a car passed them on the road.  
  
“They’re here,” Sam said; unnecessarily, because Castiel had visited his brother and Dean’s grave so many times during the last three months he could find his way with his eyes closed.  
  
“I’ll start with Bal,” Castiel said. “You two take Dean’s.”  
  
“Maybe we should-“ Sam stopped himself and looked at Castiel, and then he just nodded. Maybe it would take less time if they all worked on the same project, but this was more for their sake than for Dean and Balthazar’s. After all, the two men were mostly dead. They weren’t around at the moment, one way or another.  
  
Gabriel shoved his shovel down into the ground, and the two other men followed his example. They worked in silence, the only sounds their heavy breathing and the shovels eating away at the earth. The hours passed as they dug, the holes growing bigger and bigger.  
  
Castiel was struggling on his own, his progress so much slower than the other two’s. At one point he bit off a sob and leaned against the side of the grave, unsure if he could even continue. What if Balthazar’s body was decomposed? What if all that was in that coffin now was a worm-eaten corpse? He drew in a shaky, choked-off breath.  
  
Someone jumped into the hole he was in, and Castiel recognized Gabriel’s smell - sandalwood and strawberry lollipops, a safe smell - as the older man enveloped him in a hug. “You’re okay, Cas,” Gabriel murmured, and Castiel clung to his uncle. “C’mon, let’s get this show on the road.”  
  
“Dean-“  
  
“Has Sam. He’s not in a hurry. I’m helping you and Bal out now.” Castiel could barely see the smile on Gabriel’s face, it was so dark, but he grinned back.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“No prob.” They continued to dig with renewed vigor, and soon, they were about as far as Sam was in the other grave.  
  
When Castiel’s spade hit hard wood, he struggled to breathe for a minute. “Oh God,” he whispered, before he started scraping off the remaining dirt with the strength of a madman.  
  
“I’ve reached Dean’s coffin,” they heard Sam say from the other grave, and then came thumping sounds and a sharp creaking sound.  
  
Castiel found his way to the lid of the casket with trembling hands, Gabriel climbing out of the hole to not stand in the way. Then Castiel opened it, the smells of fresh dirt and death flared in his nostrils. He took a deep breath before fishing out his phone, to provide some light. It was so dark he couldn’t see, and part of him didn’t want to see either.  
  
He pressed a random button, and the screen lit up. With trembling hands and a heavy heart, he lifted his phone so it shone over his brother’s face.  
  
Then Castiel crumpled, wreaking sobs making their way out of his body. He was hunched over, his wings flat against his back, as he let everything go.  
  
“Oh god,” Gabriel whispered. “Sam was right. You were right, Sam.”  
  
“I know,” came Sam’s strangled voice from the other grave. “Oh God, Dean…”  
  
“Bal,” Castiel whispered and let his free hand trail over his brother’s face. He looked as pale and beautiful as ever, as if he was still sleeping. Like Snow White. Castiel leaned down and pressed a kiss to the mostly-dead man’s lips, hoping it could be as easy as in the fairytales. Balthazar didn’t move.  
  
“Get him up, Cas,” Gabriel murmured, and Castiel could see tears shining on his uncle’s face. “I’ll take him.”  
  
Putting his phone back in his pocket, Castiel hooked his arms under Balthazar’s and lifted him up. His brother was a heavy, dead weight. The thought made him feel a little sick, but then Castiel leaned close and could smell the faint, faint taste of cinnamon on his brother’s skin.  
  
 _Cinnamon rolls. You ate that for breakfast that day even though you’re slightly allergic to it. You idiot._  
  
Suddenly Castiel started laughing, so badly he sank to the floor of the coffin with his still brother in his arms.  
  
“Cas? You okay?” Gabriel asked, worried.  
  
“I told him not to eat the cinnamon rolls,” Castiel gasped out, not sure whether he was laughing or just sobbing now. “He loved those rolls, the idiot.”  
  
Gabriel sighed and huffed out a laugh.  
  
Finally, Castiel got a hold of himself again and lifted his brother high enough for Gabriel to grab a hold of him and haul him out of the hole. “I’m sorry about that,” Castiel said quietly. “It was inappropriate.”  
  
Gabriel snorted. “You’re still grieving, Cas. Nothing’s inappropriate.” Then he helped Castiel out as well. “Take care of him, and I’ll help Sam with Dean.” His eyes had a shine in them, a gleam Castiel hadn’t seen at all since he woke up from his possessed slumber.  
  
He nodded and watched Gabriel haul Dean’s corpse out of the hole before helping Sam out. Castiel then turned back to his brother, wiping off the dust and grime on his face. “I’m getting you back now,” Castiel said quietly and brushed away a stray bang from Balthazar’s face. “You realize that, don’t you?” He smiled for the first time in forever.  
  


~*~

  
  
It was Gabriel’s turn on the laptop now; the three of them had shifts. They were trying to track down Crowley, who had fled the city a few weeks after Bal and Dean’s funerals. It made a lot more sense now, why he had done that.  
  
Dean and Balthazar’s bodies were lying in Dean’s bed, side by side. Sam had given up his own bed so that Castiel and Gabriel could share it. “You guys are family,” he had shrugged when they had protested. These days Sam slept on the couch, when he slept at all. To be honest, neither of them slept much. It was still weird to have their brothers in Dean’s bedroom, looking like they were in a coma.  
  
Castiel was sitting in the living room chair now, looking through random newspapers to see if he could find a clue that hinted towards either Ruby Two or Crowley’s location. Sam was twiddling thumbs.  
  
“I meant to ask,” Sam said suddenly, looking at Castiel. “Gabriel.”  
  
“What about him?” Castiel asked evenly, glancing at the closed door into the bedroom where his uncle was.  
  
“He and Dean… there was something there, wasn’t it?”  
  
Castiel huffed a laugh. “I think you’d have to be pretty blind not to notice.”  
  
Sam smiled a little. “Yeah, I did, but- do you know…”  
  
Castiel shook his head. “From what I gather, Gabriel started living here when he got hauled out of his hidey hole, and just gradually got closer to Dean. I mean, they do have quite a few things in common.”  
  
“They both lost close family members when they were younger,” Sam said quietly.  
  
Castiel nodded. “And to the Rubies.”  
  
Sam nodded, in deep thought. “Do you remember anything?” he asked Castiel after a while, and his eyes were big and tired.  
  
“Yeah, I do,” Castiel whispered. He hadn’t told them, didn’t want to freak Gabriel out, but now that Sam asked, he reckoned the Winchester shared his problem. “Bits and pieces.”  
  
“Yeah, me too,” Sam said quietly, his eyes dropping down to the floor. “I feel a bit like Jason Bourne, if you know what I mean.”  
  
“I think I do,” Castiel nodded. “Assassin.”  
  
Sam nodded too, pale.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sam.” Castiel had only been possessed for a month and a half; Sam had been for over four years.  
  
“I just- I wish I _didn’t_ remember,” Sam gritted out. “I’ve killed people, Cas. People that had done nothing but been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He hitched out a breath. “I’m supposed to be one of the _good_ guys,” he whispered with a broken smile.  
  
Castiel leaned forward and put his hand on the Winchester’s shoulder, uncertain if the contact was welcomed or not. When Sam’s expression softened a bit, relief flickering across his face, Castiel stood up from his chair and sat down in the couch next to him. “I did too,” he said, looking at the younger man. “Only a few, but I too killed people. I-” his voice broke, and he tried again. “I killed a child’s father. She was there. I know her name, even if I don’t know what the man had ever done to evoke the Rubies’ wrath.”  
  
Sam nodded and leaned against him, letting out a shuddering breath. “Gwen,” he said.  
  
And Castiel understood, even if he perhaps shouldn’t have. “Jimmy,” he replied quietly.  
  
“Samuel, Christian, Mark, Jack, Meg.” Sam’s voice was trembling.  
  
Castiel closed his eyes. He felt sick, but there was also a strong feeling of catharsis. At least someone knew; someone that wouldn’t condemn him. “Uri, Ravel.”  
  
“Alistair, Jessica, Brady, Vanir, Angela.” Sam whispered.  
  
“Zach, Rochelle.”  
  
“Jacob, Max, Melanie, Nancy, Gordon.”  
  
“Michelle, Lenore.” Castiel’s wings were shivering with the effort just to utter the names.  
  
“Lily, Madison, Jake, Constance, Roy.” Sam swallowed and looked up at Castiel, who nodded quietly. Then he got up from the couch and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.  
  
Castiel heard retching, and curled in on himself on the couch. His wings curled around him to shield him from the world, and his own shame.  
  


~*~

  
  
It was Sam’s day on the laptop today; Castiel had been sitting on it all of yesterday. They had some vague clues as to where the Demon could be, but none specific enough that they could all get crammed into Dean’s Impala - who was legally Sam’s now - and drive off.  
  
Castiel had been dozing off on Sam’s couch, since he’d been up until 5am on the laptop, and frowned when he realized he was alone. Sam’s door was closed, so the Winchester was there by himself, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Castiel was pretty sure he would have heard if his uncle had left the apartment, so instead he walked into Dean’s bedroom.  
  
Gabriel sat on the floor, holding one of Dean’s hands in his own. With his free hand he was stroking the Winchester’s hair gently, murmuring words too soft for the younger Angel to hear. It would have seemed creepy, Castiel mused, if it hadn’t looked so… domestic, in a way. Like this, it looked almost natural. And there was a bitter tang of loss over the whole scenario, one that made him glance over at his own brother lying next to Dean.  
  
“You have great taste in men, I’ll give you that,” Castiel murmured with a small smile, and Gabriel startled.  
  
“Cas,” he said and dropped Dean’s hand immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“  
  
“I don’t mind. Feel free.” Castiel walked in and sat down on the floor as well, leaning his back against the wall. “You two look good together.”  
  
Pain flickered across Gabriel’s features, and he turned back to the bed. “Thank you.” After a moment’s hesitation, he took Dean’s hand again. “It looks like they’re sleeping,” he said quietly. “Like the fairytale; Sleeping Beauty.”  
  
“Yeah,” Castiel replied. “Or Snow White.”  
  
Gabriel huffed out a humorless laugh. “I can’t wait till you see him alive, Cas,” he said and gave his nephew a tired smile. “He has the most beautiful eyes you’ve seen. Bottle-green and twinkling when he laughs.” He bit his lip self-consciously, but Castiel chuckled.  
  
“Yeah. I can’t wait. You should probably tell Sam about, you know…” he gestured at the two men’s intertwined hands. “Just so the awkwardness is minimal, I mean.” He didn’t tell the Angel that he’d already talked to Sam about it.  
  
“Yeah, that might be an idea. Dean will probably punch me if I don’t.” Gabriel’s smile dimmed, and that haunted look replaced it again. “Do you notice,” he said so low Castiel had to strain his ears to hear, “that we speak like we know they’re going to be okay?”  
  
Castiel swallowed. “Yeah. I don’t- I don’t think we can _not_ do that, to be honest.” He shifted. “I have to believe Bal’s gonna be back. Especially when he’s in this apartment, in this room. Too close.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “It feels like they’re in a coma, and we’re just waiting for them to wake up at any moment. I can’t-” he shook his head and closed his eyes with a weary sigh.  
  
“Yeah,” Gabriel replied, and the older man crawled over so he was leaning against the wall next to Castiel. “We’ll find Crowley. It’s gonna be okay.”  
  
Castiel nodded, eyes still closed.  
  


~*~

  
  
“Anything?” Gabriel asked when Sam opened the door to his room and stumbled into the living room the next morning, yawning.  
  
“I’m not sure, actually,” Sam said, and Castiel came in from the kitchen, balancing a bowl of cereal.  
  
“What do you mean?” he asked.  
  
“Well,” Sam said and walked over to the coffee machine, “I didn’t find Crowley. But there’s a man called Fergus Roderick McLeod who’s just bought a house in Southern California. The name sounded familiar, but I can't put my finger on it.”  
  
Castiel cocked his head curiously, but Gabriel’s eyes widened. “That’s him,” Gabriel said, voice urgent. “That has to be him.”  
  
“It has?” Castiel asked, feeling lost.  
  
“Crowley’s last name is McLeod,” Gabriel explained. “I’ve known him for a good while. Sam, do you have the address?”  
  
“No, but I only need a few minutes.” Abandoning his coffee cup, Sam disappeared back into the bedroom.  
  
“So…” Castiel said, feeling slightly ill. “Is this it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Gabriel said honestly. “But it’s a start.”  
  
Ten minutes later, Sam emerged with a printed page. “Here. When do we leave?”  
  
“Half an hour,” Gabriel barked out. “Pack up, guys. Sam, I can take the first shift by the wheel.”  
  
Sam nodded gratefully, and the three of them started bustling around.  
  
“What are we supposed to do with Dean and Balthazar?” Castiel asked.  
  
“We have no choice but to leave them here,” Gabriel sighed. “We shouldn’t be gone more than a few days, and these guys don’t need sustenance. They’re dead.” He shrugged, but it wasn’t such a hopeless gesture anymore.  
  
Castiel swallowed. “I don’t like it.”  
  
“I know, Cas,” Gabriel sighed and came over to put a warm hand on his nephew’s neck. “But unless you’re willing to stay here, there’s nothing else we can do. For all intents and purposes, they’re dead now, and if we take them with us there’s a great chance we’ll be caught. Which means grave robbery on a good day and murder on a bad one.”  
  
Castiel nodded, defeated. But it still felt wrong; every fiber of his being resented the idea of leaving his brother alone in such a vulnerable position, even if it wasn’t vulnerable at all. After all, not much you can do with a dead person.  
  
They were in the Impala twenty minutes later, Castiel staring out of the backseat window up at Dean’s apartment. _It’s going to be okay,_ he forced his mind to repeat over and over. _They’ll be fine._  
  
“Everyone ready?” Gabriel asked, and both Sam and Castiel sucked in a deep breath before they nodded.  
  
Then they drove.  
  


~*~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: graphic violence, a little gore. Soul cuddling? Also there is some energy exchange done here without consent of both parts, though it is brief, vital, and explained later.

  
“Why aren’t there more guards?” Sam asked, peering out of the Impala’s window to check out Crowley’s mansion. “Seems a bit…”  
  
“Naïve?” Gabriel finished for him. “Yeah.”  
  
“So are we going to just go in there and hope we don’t get caught?” Castiel asked, wings bristling despite his efforts to stay calm.  
  
Gabriel shrugged. “I like to keep my plans simple.”  
  
Castiel snorted and shook his head.  
  
“Okay, we ready?” Sam asked, and the other two men nodded. Gabriel changed into a woman; a short, lean type with chestnut-brown hair and a wicked smile.  
  
“Looking good, Gabe,” Sam grinned nervously as they snuck out of the car. It was a quiet night around them.  
  
Gabriel winked at him and sashayed over to the guards at the front door of the mansion. “Excuse me, guys. I’m lost and my phone battery died, could I borrow your phone for a minute?” He - she? - smiled sweetly.  
  
“Sorry, miss,” the first one said apologetically, “I’m afraid I have to ask you to-“  
  
Gabriel punched him square in the face, breaking his nose before he had time to finish his sentence. Castiel couldn’t hear the crunch, but he saw it and he heard the guard howl in pain. Gabriel turned to knee the second guard in the crotch before slamming both her fists against his temple. As the second guard went to the ground without a sound, the first guard went down to his knees, scratching at his throat while making a choking sound.  
  
“Huh,” Sam replied next to Castiel, “I didn’t know I could do that.” He watched as the guard slumped, and then averted his gaze. Immediately Castiel noticed the guard’s chest beginning to move again, even if the guard stayed unconscious.  
  
“Thanks for the help,” Gabriel nodded at Sam when the two younger men joined him at the door, shifting back to his original appearance, and then they snuck into the house. There were no other guards.  
  
“This has got to be some sort of set-up,” Gabriel whispered. "This is all too easy." The two others nodded solemnly.  
  
When they stepped into the living room, bathed in darkness, their target was already there waiting for them.  
  
“Figures,” Gabriel said and sighed.  
  
“Hello, boys,” Crowley said, smiling his usual bland, polite smile. He turned on the lamp next to him. The Demon was sitting in a fancy black leather couch, which undoubtedly was worth more than Dean's (well, Sam's) entire apartment, sprawled casually against an array of plush silk pillows. In his hand he was holding the Colt, pointing it steadily at Gabriel's heart.  
  
“Crowley,” Gabriel nodded in greeting. Sam and Castiel stayed quiet by his side.  
  
“Have you ever tried burning yourself, Gabriel?” Crowley asked, as if he was genuinely curious. There was a glass of scotch on the small mahogany table by his side; he picked it up, swirled it a few times with a familiar air, and took a sip without his aim changing even a millimeter.  
  
“It can’t be done,” Gabriel gritted out. “The burned one dies long before it’s done.”  
  
“Exactly,” Crowley nodded. “That’s why I suggest we all sit down calmly, so that I don’t have to shoot you. What do you say, boys?” He smiled, holding his crystal glass between his thumb and ring finger.  
  
They sank down in the couch opposite from Crowley - slowly, without any sudden movements in case Crowley was trigger-happy.  
  
“How did you get the Colt?” Castiel asked when no one said anything for a while. “I thought Ruby Two had it.”  
  
“Oh, she had,” Crowley nodded. “But after I found her and had a little… chat, she decided to give it to me.”  
  
“Out of the sheer goodness of her heart, I’m sure,” Sam said dryly.  
  
Crowley smirked and didn’t say anything.  
  
“Is she still alive?” Gabriel wanted to know.  
  
Crowley glanced at the gun he was holding. “In a manner.”  
  
Castiel and Sam shuddered almost imperceptibly, and shared a glance.  
  
“So,” Crowley sighed and crossed his legs, his movements delicate, “I suppose you’re here for the souls. Took you long enough to find out.”  
  
“You expected us to?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Of course I did. I mean, I was _hoping_ you wouldn’t, but a man in my position needs to be prepared for most anything.” Crowley smiled in a way that was way too sincere for the situation.  
  
“Did you sell them, Crowley?” Sam asked, voice hoarse.  
  
Crowley glanced over at him, but didn’t answer the question.  
  
“I have a question,” Gabriel said quietly. He leaned his elbows on his knees. He looked so tired, Castiel thought. “Why would you do that to Dean? You’ve been his - maybe not his friend, but you’ve known him for _years_. And the moment he gets his brother back you take him away. Why?”  
  
Crowley sighed. “See, this is the problem with you superheroes. Always so loyal. Naïvely so. I have never claimed to be Dean’s friend, as he would no doubt have stated if he were present - or even alive - at the moment. I am and will always be loyal to myself, and myself _only_. It served my purposes to be on Dean’s good side, and when he was dead it didn’t anymore.” He shrugged.  
  
“God,” Gabriel spat and let out a half-strangled laugh. “Your cynicism knows no boundaries, huh, Crowley?”  
  
Crowley’s lips quirked into an amused smile. “Do you know how valuable a human soul is, Gabriel? Do any of you know?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel replied.  
  
“No,” Crowley snapped back, “you don’t. You have _no idea_. Because if you had, you would already have killed each other.”  
  
The silence was suffocating. “So you did sell them, then,” Castiel said. His heart was sinking.  
  
“Yes,” Crowley sighed. “It was unfortunate, but it has also made me the sixth richest man on earth.” He shrugged and shifted his posture, though the Colt was still steadily pointing at Gabriel’s chest.  
  
“No, you haven’t.” Sam's grin was cold, colder than Castiel had ever seen the gentle man, and his eyes were eerily triumphant.  
  
“What makes you say that, Sammy?” Crowley asked, calm and collected.  
  
“Because you need a safety net.” And with that, Sam lifted his hand and a sense of _something_ flung through the room towards the Demon.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
“See?” Sam replied, his smirk wider now. “They’re your shield, aren’t they?”  
  
Crowley was frowning. “How strong are your powers, Sam?”  
  
“Stronger than yours,” Sam replied smoothly. “I've had years to hone them, even if I don't remember. I could demolish this whole house in a matter of minutes, if I wanted to.”  
  
Crowley nodded, contemplative. “Very well,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. You have nothing to trade with that will be nearly as valuable as their souls.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Sam purred. He was stretching now, like a giant cat, and looked way too confident for the situation they were in.  
  
“Sam?” Gabriel asked quietly. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“I’m just curious how high you value your own life, Crowley,” Sam shrugged. “I mean, what’s the point of power and money if you’re dead?” He said it in a carefree manner, like he'd just tossed it out there as an interesting suggestion and not a death threat. This side of Sam... frightened Castiel a little.  
  
Crowley snorted. “That was fairly direct for a threat, Winchester. You sure you have the firepower to pull that off on your own?”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure I don’t,” Sam replied cheerily and sent Crowley a grin so confident that Castiel almost cringed.  
  
Crowley brows furrowed, and he moved the Colt so it pointed towards Sam’s head instead. “Then do enlighten me,” he said calmly. “I’m curious.”  
  
“You probably know quite a bit about soul binding, am I right?” Sam said, but continued before the Demon could reply. “Of course you do. You have undoubtedly bound Dean and Balthazar’s soul to you already, so you can draw from their powers and energy. Which makes you by _far_ the most powerful person in this room.”  
  
“Yes, it does,” Crowley replied with the hint of an amused smile.  
  
Sam nodded, just as confident as earlier. “The Rubies told me to kill my brother when he came to rescue me the day he died,” he said, his voice loud enough that Castiel understood this was a tale for him and Gabriel as well as for Crowley. “I was in charge of the Colt, since I was their personal guard. I could have shot Dean in the stomach as easy as nothing, and in half a day he would be theirs. Yet they gave me specific orders to kill, not capture. Now why do you think they did that?” He looked over at Gabriel and Castiel, making it clear it was a question for all of them.  
  
“Gabriel could just have burned him clean again, couldn’t he?” Castiel asked.  
  
“And you _really_ don’t think I would have had plenty of time to take out Gabriel if I had just shot my brother?”  
  
Crowley was following the conversation in silence, frowning deeply.  
  
“You said to him that they didn’t need him,” Gabriel told Sam. “That you were ‘special’ and Dean was not.”  
  
“True, that’s what I told him,” Sam nodded. “But think, Gabriel. Even if Dean was just a shifter, he was a powerful one. You would know that.”  
  
Gabriel nodded slowly.  
  
“And even without powers, Dean is The Righteous Man. The amount of contacts and information he has  _alone_ should be enough to welcome him to the team.”  
  
Gabriel frowned.  
  
“And still they specifically asked me to take him out,” Sam sighed and folded his arms. “Have you figured it out yet, Crowley?”  
  
Crowley glared at him.  
  
Sam laughed. Honest-to-God _laughed_ at the Demon pointing a gun at him. Then he sobered, even if the twinkle in his eyes didn’t diminish. “The Rubies had me. They fed off my soul, my energy - they _needed_ me. It was a possession, instead of soul binding like you’ve done with Dean and Balthazar - but the basics are the same.” He rubbed his neck and quirked a smile at his two Angel companions before he continued. “I was alone in the darkness. I don’t know if you remember, Castiel, but I do. It felt like I was in a cage or something - just vast, eternal nothingness surrounding me. And then came the Rubies’ presence, shining like a beam through that darkness, and I just latched onto them because I had nothing else to latch onto.”  
  
“I remember,” Castiel whispered. He hadn’t before, but Sam’s tale had sparked something in his memory. Soothing, warm presences next to him. Someone murmuring his name - another's name - touching him reverently.  
  
Sam nodded, lost in thought for a moment before he looked back at Crowley and smiled. “And then Dean came along. And even as lost as I was, being fed with the Rubies’ bullshit for over four years, I still felt my brother’s presence. My body couldn’t do anything, because it was just a puppet for the Rubies. But I felt it, the tiny part that was still _me_ , and I recognized Dean as my brother.  
  
“Sibling bonds are extremely strong, Crowley. That is your problem. And the closer the siblings are, the stronger the bond.” Sam’s eyes took on a dangerous glint. “So strong, in fact, that their souls can sometimes stretch through the veil and connect, even if they’re on different planes. Isn’t that fascinating? The thought that if you just hone your senses, reach out for that other person with all your love and your longing, you can find that lost soul somewhere in the darkness. No matter how well you try to hide it, Crowley.”  
  
Castiel was rigid. Sam was talking to him. From the way Gabriel had gone pale, and the glances Crowley kept sending him, Sam was talking about Balthazar.  
  
Castiel willed his eyes to stay open, setting his face in something like open confusion. Mentally, Castiel closed off until he completely tuned out the men’s voices. Then, he _honed_.  
  
Nothing happened at first. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it right at all, actually. Then came a small spark of something recognizable, a healthy glow right by his own. Something orangey, in an indefinable way. _Gabriel_ , Castiel realized. He nudged the glowing piece gently, and dimly heard that Gabriel shifted next to him on the couch and coughed to hide his surprise. Then he dived under again.  
  
He kept searching. After a while he felt something, a darker glow. A tainted and torn one. After a moment, he realized it was Sam. Castiel felt a fierce sympathy for the Hunter; he was so damaged, and yet so put-together. Attached to Sam’s tainted, navy-blue soul, Castiel found a honey-colored one. This one was filled with joy, a joy directed towards Sam, but also a great longing. It stretched in the general direction of Gabriel’s soul, without reaching it fully.  
  
 _Dean_ , Castiel realized. _Dean’s looking for Gabriel. So he does love him, then._ He nudged the soul gently, just to alert it of his presence, and after a flash of surprise and even fear, the soul recognized his attachment to Gabriel. It seemed to curl around it, and Castiel felt another spike of grief for the apparent lack of connection. Castiel tried to nudge at Gabriel’s glow, and then Dean’s, to get them closer together. But Gabriel’s shied away from all contact, the feelings there too many and too conflicted for Castiel to decipher. He felt Gabriel’s loss of Dean, though, and although there was a faint spark of hope there, it was overshadowed by dull resignation. Gabriel didn’t think Dean was coming back.  
  
And Dean didn’t seem to be able to move. It baffled Castiel, until he searched around the edges of the other man’s soul and found a series of pitch-black strings attached to it. Castiel shied away from them. So this was what Sam meant by forced soul bonding. That was Crowley.  
  
Willing his body to move slightly, shifting nervously in the couch as if he was still following the conversation, Castiel broadened his search in Dean’s direction. He dimly realized that however slow this seemed to be, it must be happening in the speed it takes for a nerve to react to a command from the brain. In reality, less than half a minute seemed to have passed since Castiel started honing.  
  
Castiel’s body sighed quietly, and he willed himself farther and farther away from the comforting presence of his uncle, Sam and Dean. He was looking for a spark of something familiar with every nerve ending he had, trying to shine as brightly as he could. Then, just at the end of his spectrum, he heard a glimpse of purple. It was strange; not quite a sound, not quite a feeling, not quite a sight. But it was _something_ and he stretched towards it as fast as he could. _Balthazar? Brother?_  
  
There was another spark, a flash of purple-green, closer. But it was not moving. Castiel strained to get closer, feeling more and more lost in the darkness. He didn’t know what his body was doing, but he knew that the presence had to be Balthazar. Desperate, he sent a pulse of longing at it. A need of reassurance, or recognition. _Brother. Please._  
  
He didn’t get that. Instead the glow latched onto his pulse and followed it back to Castiel, slamming into him with a force that would have taken his breath away if he had still been properly connected to his body. It _hurt_ , was too much at once, and Castiel’s glow pulsed desperately in pain. He felt Balthazar’s guilt at hurting him, heard unspoken apologies flare between, but it was almost drowned in the surges of desperation, longing and _love_ that kept crashing into him.  
  
 _ **Castiel Castiel Castiel Castiel Castiel Castiel**_. Again and again Balthazar sent out his name, like an SOS, and Castiel tried to reply as well as he could. He could feel the black tendrils of Crowley sticking to his brother’s soul, keeping it trapped in the darkness and unable to follow him, and prodded at them. Balthazar’s purple-green soul egged him on, pulsing red every now and then. Then the tendrils were severed one by one, like pieces of string stretched too taut and snapping, and Castiel felt something enter his body.  
  
It wasn’t Balthazar’s soul - it was still there, clinging to his own like a feather-light touch on his wings and skin. But Castiel suddenly felt ten times stronger, like he could move mountains with just his mind. He opened his eyes without realizing he’d ever closed them, and realized that Balthazar must have shifted the power surge over from Crowley to Castiel.  
  
So this was why the Rubies had wanted Dean dead. Judging by how strong Castiel felt now, it was very understandable. Castiel grinned.  
  
Sam glanced over at him as if he knew exactly what had happened, grinning widely, and Crowley’s eyes flared with momentary fear. Then the Demon moved, too quickly for either of the men to react, and shot Castiel.  
  
The gun was pointed at his head, right between his eyes. Castiel felt a tiny breeze of power being pointed his way, probably from Sam, before everything exploded with pain. He screamed and buckled forward in the couch, barely noticing that there was a full-fledged fight going on around him now, and lifted both hands to his face. God, how did he even have a face left? He’d never felt pain like this. He screamed and screamed, his mouth filling with blood, and when his fingers ghosted over the slick skin of his face, he found a hole where his cheek used to be. There was another one right behind his ear. Crowley had shot him in the face. He’d shot a hole right through his _head_.  
  
Castiel coughed up blood that kept running down his throat, until he eventually gagged. He couldn’t see anything; couldn’t keep his eyes open from the pain. He felt his stomach turning, and then he retched without knowing if anything came up at all. Maybe he just puked blood - he didn’t know. He couldn’t register anything beside the pain.  
  
Curled on the floor, gasping and crying and shivering violently, Castiel eventually became aware of a pair of hands shaking him. He tried to hear what this unknown person was saying over the sound of his own sobs.  
  
“… yourself, Cas,” the someone said, and it might have been Gabriel. ”You can heal… gonna die if you don’t… dammit, Cas, list….” He kept fading in and out, and finally that someone took a hold of his hands and pressed them towards the ( _hole, oh god there’s just a hole_ ) cheek. “Heal!” Castiel heard someone scream at him.  
  
So he did that. He drew on Balthazar’s energy, because his own was drained, and felt the hole grown minutely smaller under his fingers. The pain dissipated slowly, and it was easier to think.  
  
“Cas,” the someone barked, and yes, it was probably Gabriel. “Are you dead?”  
  
“I think so,” Castiel croaked out.  
  
“You’re okay,” another voice said. Sam. “It looks better already.”  
  
“I can’t…” Castiel could feel the fingers slipping, still unable to open his eyes. Balthazar’s energy wasn’t enough. “It’s too much. Hurts too much.”  
  
“Draw from Dean,” Sam said. “Come on, Cas, hone. You could do it earlier.”  
  
It was already dark around him, so it wasn’t as difficult as Castiel thought it would be. It felt more like dipping under the surface and swimming with his eyes closed. Castiel felt Dean’s honey-glow pulse nearby, and he latched onto it and just _took_. He could feel the soul fight against it, and it felt sickening to take it against Dean’s will, but Castiel was too out of the loop to fully notice. As soon as he could feel the hole in his cheek stop gushing blood, he withdrew from Dean with an apologetic pulse. Dean flinched away from his presence, even if it still tried to contact Gabriel’s soul via Castiel. It prodded against it, and Gabriel’s flinched and flickered before tentatively stretching towards Dean. When Dean prodded again, Gabriel let it, and seemed to curl around it to determine what it was. When it recognized Dean, a pulse of bright azure flared through it, and Dean sent a pink pulse back. The colors swirled and mixed, and Castiel could feel himself grin.  
  
“There,” Castiel mumbled, coming back to his body to find the hole in his cheek gone. He still didn’t open his eyes; didn’t have the energy to. He could smell blood and bile, and his body weighed a ton. “Wh’s Crowl’y?”  
  
“Sam and him had a power-match,” Gabriel murmured next to him. “Sam won.”  
  
“Cas,” Sam’s voice sounded right by his ear. “You do realize we have to burn you again, right?”  
  
“Mm,” Castiel grunted. He was beginning to fade away already, the pain and blood loss too much. Balthazar’s presence was a reassuring presence on the outskirts of his consciousness. “Wait ‘til I’m gone?”  
  
“Yeah, we’ll wait until you’re unconscious,” Gabriel murmured and stroked a hand through his hair. “Don’t die, okay? It would suck after everything.”  
  
“Nah,” Castiel sighed and slipped under. He barely feel the burning at all.  
  


~*~

  
  
His head felt funny. And he could feel his body, the softness of newly changed sheets against his skin, which felt fresh and recently showered. His head resting against a pillow, the smell of cheap soap, the sound of a car passing by the window that must be somewhere in the room he was in.  
  
It felt safe. Familiar. He shifted slightly, and realized he was wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else. Then he clenched his fists, reveling in the feeling of being able to move his muscles - even if he couldn’t remember why that feeling should be so remarkable.  
  
“Dean? Are you awake?”  
  
That voice. Dean realized he had eyes when he blinked them open, squinting at the sharp morning light. There was a figure sitting by the bed, leaning towards him. “Fuck, you’re tall,” Dean grunted.  
  
Sam huffed out a shaky laugh and leaned down to pull him into a rough hug. He squeezed Dean so hard it hurt, but Dean’s wasn’t fucking complaining. “You found me,” Sam murmured into his ear, voice thick with emotion. “Four years, and you were still looking. Goddammit, Dean.”  
  
“Didn’t have a choice, Sammy,” Dean mumbled back, closing his eyes and inhaling the long-lost scent of his brother. He smelled like he’d always done; dry, like old books, with a faint whiff of coffee and that stupid girl-shampoo he always used to buy. “And I was right to do it, too.”  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t give up,” Sam murmured, his face pressed into the hollow of Dean’s throat. “Although it was shitty of you to die.”  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Dean rasped out, remembering Ruby Three and that brilliant, white light. “Sorry ‘bout that.”  
  
Sam just held still, breathing slowly, and Dean let him be close as long as he wanted to. He hadn’t been able to touch Sam in over four years, smell that fucking shampoo and bitch about how abnormally huge he was. Dean suddenly found himself sobbing quietly into his brother’s flannel shirt (made him look like a goddamn cowboy, the Sasquatch), and Sam pulled him even closer.  
  
“I missed you, Dean,” Sam murmured quietly. “Even as far away as I was. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”  
  
And Dean just nodded, rubbing his face against the worn flannel, because he was pretty sure his voice wouldn’t hold right now.  
  
They stayed quiet for what felt like an eternity, but were probably not more than ten minutes, before Sam finally let go and Dean leaned back against the covers. He furiously wiped at his red-rimmed eyes, but Sam just smiled and didn’t say anything about it.  
  
“I have to go,” he said instead and rose.  
  
“What?” Dean said, feeling a pang of hurt. “Why?”  
  
Sam grinned. “Because I’m pretty sure Gabriel hasn’t slept since we got your souls back, it’s been two days, and he’s pacing outside the door right now. Someone should take pity on him.”  
  
Dean gulped and stared at the door. Gabriel. God, Gabriel. “Is he…”  
  
“He’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Balthazar just woke up, and Castiel’s with him now,” Sam explained calmly, also looking at the closed door. “Castiel got shot, but he borrowed some energy from you and Bal, so he survived. So if you feel tired, that’s one of the reasons.”  
  
“Um, okay,” Dean said. “Who shot him?”  
  
“A very, very long story, Dean,” Sam sighed and walked over to the door. “Gabe will fill you in after you’ve finished your hugs and kisses. Just remember to be quiet; I’m your brother and I love you, but there are some things I don’t need to know.” He winked, and Dean felt redness creep up his cheeks.  
  
“You, um. You know about…”  
  
Sam snorted. “Dean, you should have seen him. He was more devastated than me after your funeral.” He gave Dean a last, sad smile, and then slipped out.  
  
Dean rubbed his face self-consciously, scooting a bit lower into the bed, and waited. Not even ten seconds went by before the door opened and Gabriel’s face poked in.  
  
“Hey, Sam said I could come in?”  
  
It was strange that it was voiced as a question, Dean thought, but nodded. “Yeah, of course. C’mon in.”  
  
Gabriel sat down in the same chair as Sam had sat in, folding his hands and staring at Dean like he didn’t really believe that he was real. Alive. “So are you feeling okay?” he finally asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean replied evenly, feeling like fidgeting. “I mean, I’m kinda exhausted, but Sam said Cas had to borrow some energy, so I guess that’s alright.”  
  
“Yeah,” Gabriel said and nodded. “He had to borrow Balthazar’s healing power, because his own wasn’t strong enough, and he also had to borrow some energy from you to finish it up. But he’s okay, now. So…” He fiddled with a loose string on his jacket.  
  
Dean wanted to shout something at him, but he had no idea what. “So… how have you been?” he tried instead.  
  
Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Are you messing with me?” he said, too calmly.  
  
“I dunno, man, I just…” Dean bit his lip.  
  
“You were dead, Dean. So was my nephew. I have not been fucking okay.” Gabriel spat it out, his voice never rising in volume, but his hands trembled.  
  
“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Dean let out a frustrated noise and rubbed a hand across his face. “I just don’t know what to do here. It’s weird.”  
  
“You don’t think it’s weird for me?” Gabriel snorted in something akin to disgust. “I’m the one who’s been laying flowers on your grave for four months, Dean.”  
  
Dean felt a bit cold at that. “What kind?” he asked without thinking.  
  
“Sunflowers,” Gabriel muttered, not meeting his gaze. “Lilies are too gay. And sometimes I put M&M’s there.”  
  
Dean blinked. “Why would you do that?”  
  
Gabriel shrugged. “To give it some color. And candy’s always been my thing. I wanted…” he stopped.  
  
“What?” Dean asked, voice gentle.  
  
“I thought that if you were still around, if your soul was hanging around your grave or whatever… you would see the M&M’s and knew that they were from me.” Gabriel stared at the floor, but his hands were clenched in fists and his eyes were shiny.  
  
Dean looked at him for a long time. “Gabriel?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Kiss me.”  
  
Startled, Gabriel looked up. “What?”  
  
“Fucking come over here and kiss me senseless,” Dean said, “because I’m too fucking tired to come over and debauch you where you’re sitting.”  
  
And fucking _finally_ came that radiant smile on Gabriel’s face, and then he was leaning over and Dean just tugged at his shirt until he lost his balance and landed on top of Dean and everything was _perfect_.  
  
Gabriel’s lips were chapped, but his mouth was warm and welcoming as always, and it startled Dean that it was so familiar. It felt like coming home. Dean sighed and closed his eyes; hanging onto the other man like his life depended on it, and reveled in the fact that he was alive again.  
  
Gabriel seemed pretty happy about that fact too. His fingers tangled in Dean’s hair, stroked across his cheek and down his neck. It was as if Gabriel was still making sure that Dean was there, and not an illusion. Dean gave as good as he got, his hand finally settling on the nape of the other man’s neck. As soon as the initial desperation wore off, the kisses became playful. Nipping at the other’s lips, both of them fighting for dominance, re-learning a dance they hadn’t danced in four months - had barely had the chance to dance at all.  
  
Finally they had to break apart to breathe, their foreheads touching as they shared air. Dean blinked up at Gabriel, who was still smiling. He lifted a hand and stroked it across Gabriel’s cheek. “You look tired,” Dean murmured.  
  
“Try exhausted,” Gabriel said, and his eyes fluttered closed when Dean kissed him again. That caused Dean to kiss his eyelids too, for good measure.  
  
“Lie down with me,” Dean murmured. “Please.”  
  
Gabriel just nodded and gave him a last peck on the lips, before he leaned back and started shedding his clothes. “Should I,” he started and looked down on himself.  
  
“Don’t even think about lying down with any clothes on,” Dean smirked, and pulled his own boxers off too, for good measure. “No way anything’s gonna happen now, but I’m not making any promises for later.”  
  
“Well,” Gabriel said as he lifted away the covers and slipped into bed next to Dean, “I can make that promise. Because I haven’t gotten laid in four months, believe it or not, so I’m very sexually frustrated.”  
  
Dean huffed out a laugh. “Well, technically I haven’t, either, you know,” he pointed out.  
  
Gabriel smiled, even if his eyes turned tired and sad around the edges again.  
  
“Hey,” Dean murmured and drew his lover close. “I’m back now. Corporeal and all.”  
  
Gabriel just nodded and squirmed closer, tucking his head under Dean’s chin and placing a gentle kiss on his collarbone. Dean wrapped his arms around the other man and inhaled the sweet scent of him. Gabriel smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and Dean was pleased that he smelled totally different from Sam. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tangling his legs with Gabriel’s.  
  
Gabriel leaned back and scooted upwards, so they shared the pillow and could stare into each other’s eyes. “For what?”  
  
“For lying to you,” Dean murmured, finding one of Gabriel’s hands and entwining their hands.  
  
Gabriel frowned. “About what?”  
  
“About you not being enough.” Dean closed his eyes briefly, recalling that conversation. Suddenly he just really wanted a cigarette. “It was a fucking lie. You’re more than enough.”  
  
“Dean…” Gabriel’s posture relaxed, and he reached out with his free hand to stroke it across Dean’s face.  
  
“Look, it’s not-” Dean smiled a little and shook his head. “It’s not a chick-flick thing, okay? It’s just a fact. You’re everything I need and way more than I deserve.”  
  
“You’re making a poor guy blush,” Gabriel tried to joke off, but his eyes were already brimming with tears, and when Dean drew him close once more he started sobbing and just clung to him.  
  
Dean closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and felt wetness on his shoulder. He hummed ‘Hey Jude’ and stroked a hand through Gabriel’s hair, which had grown long while he’d been dead, and thought of how fucking grateful he was to be alive again.  
  


~*~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Porn, more soul cuddling, telekinesis set-on by emotions; Dean has low self-worth and does not make the best decisions all the time.

They slept together for several hours, both of them exhausted beyond any measure. Dean re-emerged slowly, feeling Gabriel’s back press against his front. It was like sleeping next to a furnace. Dean burrowed his face into the smaller man’s hair, just letting the smell ground him. Dean's body still felt... strange, like it hadn't been lived in for a long time, and cold. Gabriel's closeness helped with all that.  
  
Gabriel squirmed a little in his sleep, shifting closer to him, and Dean winced when the man’s backside bumped into Dean’s increasingly interested morning wood.“Is that a candy bar, or are you just happy to see me?” Gabriel mumbled sleepily, shifting again, this time with more intent.  
  
“You have no fucking idea how happy I am to see you,” Dean quipped, kissing a trail down the Angel’s neck and back. Gabriel squirmed, but rolled onto his stomach so Dean had more space to work with. Dean worked his way down, nipping and licking and pressing light kisses all the way, while Gabriel’s breathing became faster and shallower the further down Dean traveled.  
  
“Turn around,” Dean murmured, pressing a kiss against the man’s ass cheeks, and Gabriel did as he was told without comment. Gabriel’s hand curled around Dean’s neck and pulled him up to capture his lips. Gabriel kissed him like he was a drowning man, desperate and hard and wet. Dean, on the other hand, tried to calm him down with soothing gestures and slow movements. He knew where Gabriel’s rush came from.  
  
“Calm down, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against the Angel’s lips, meeting his eyes and refusing to let the other man look away. “I mean it.”  
  
“Yeah, I know, I just-” Gabriel made an annoyed noise and flipped them both over, straddling Dean’s hips. “It’s been way too long, okay? I just need you to- I just need you.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Okay, man. Take advantage of me all you want.”  
  
Gabriel grinned before leaning down to plunder his mouth again, his hands skimming down Dean’s sides until they reached between his legs. He started stroking, his movements strangely gentle against the roughness of the kisses, and Dean made a pleased noise. Gabriel slid down and licked at the head, his eyes trained on Dean’s, before slowly taking it all into his mouth.  
  
Dean’s breathing was thrown out of the window. Apparently, after not having been in your body for four months, you get _really_ sensitive. Gabriel’s tongue swirled around the crown, and Dean gasped and threw his head back.  
  
“Do you want to top or bottom?” Gabriel asked, sliding off him to send Dean a sly grin. His strokes were sure now, confident. “I’ll let you choose since it’s your first time.”  
  
“My first- what are you talking about, Gabe,” Dean groaned.  
  
“You’ve been reborn, sorta,” Gabriel said. His grin widened. "We did resurrect you properly."  
  
“So what you’re saying is that- ah,” Dean broke off when Gabriel leant down to suck briefly at his tip, “is that I’ve been, what - re-hymenated?”  
  
“Well, at least you’re responding like a virgin,” Gabriel shrugged. “This isn’t gonna take long.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Dean meant to snap, and it came out as a moan.  
  
“Hmm, no, I don’t think you’ll last that long,” Gabriel said. “Not for the first round, at least.”  
  
“Hnng,” Dean replied eloquently.  
  
Gabriel swallowed him down again, this time moving with more efficiency. Harder strokes at the base, harder suction, but his eyes still soft on Dean.  
  
“Oh God,” Dean gasped out, feeling his orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast. “Gabriel-“  
  
Gabriel _hummed_.  
  
Dean came with a shout, trembling as if it was the first time he’d done so, and Gabriel swallowed without any more fuss. When Dean slumped and went boneless, Gabriel crawled up to press a kiss to his mouth.  
  
“You taste like me,” Dean murmured, and Gabriel groaned. “Thank you.”  
  
“I won’t say the pleasure was _all_ mine,” Gabriel said slyly, “but it was definitely pleasant.”  
  
Dean chuckled. “That was such a bad pun.”  
  
“Yup.” Gabriel skimmed down again. “You don’t happen to have any lube, do you?”  
  
“There should be some left in here,” Dean mumbled and leaned over to open the drawer in his bedside table. He fished out a bottle of KY and tossed it over to the man kneeling between his legs.  
  
Gabriel ignored it for the time being, instead leaning in to nuzzle against Dean’s inner thigh. Dean squirmed. “Ticklish.”  
  
Gabriel huffed a laugh and blew gently right over Dean’s pucker.  
  
“Gabe,” Dean gasped out, “that is just mean.”   
  
Gabriel chuckled and pressed the tip of his tongue to Dean’s opening, licking gently without dipping in.  
  
Dean groaned. There was no way he was ready to go again, not so soon, but his body made a valiant try all the same. “Gabriel, you goddamn tease.”  
  
Humming in agreement, Gabriel licked more, pushing the tip of his tongue into him. After a few minutes he pressed a finger there as well, and sucked a mark right beside the rim as the first digit slipped in.  
  
“Jesus,” Dean huffed out and fought to keep still. “Just add some goddamn lube, would you? You’re killing me here.”  
  
“I thought you said we didn’t have to rush?” Gabriel asked, even as he withdrew his finger and opened the bottle. “Besides, you haven’t been alive long enough for that joke to be funny yet.”  
  
Dean blinked when he realized what he’d said. “Gabe-“  
  
“It’s no problem,” the Angel said quickly, brushing him off, but Dean would have none of that. He grabbed a hold of Gabriel’s neck and hauled him up to kiss him soundly. Gabriel whined a little, and the hand he put on Dean’s chest to ground himself with was slick with lube, but he kissed with as much fervor as Dean.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dean murmured against the smaller man’s lips, and Gabriel nodded.  
  
“I know you are.” He pressed another, gentler kiss to Dean’s mouth, his hand slipping down to press against his entrance once more.  
  
This time, Dean spread his legs further and kept his hand on his lover’s neck, breathing into Gabriel’s mouth as the man breached him with two fingers. He grunted a little at the discomfort, but it wasn’t bad. Gabriel kissed him softly, scissoring him open, taking his time. They kept their gazes locked.  
  
“Gabe,” Dean whined after a while, arching his hips up to meet him. He wanted to have the other man inside him since about _four fucking months ago_.  
  
“I got you,” Gabriel replied, which was ridiculous because this was a two-way street, okay?  
  
“Yeah,” Dean breathed out. “You’ve got me.”  
  
Judging by the way the Angel’s eyes softened, Gabriel caught the subtle shift in the sentence. He kissed Dean again, and again, and a third finger was pushed in alongside the other two. Dean keened into his lover’s mouth.  
  
Soon, though, he was bucking, scratching lines down Gabriel’s back with his fingernails. “It’s enough,” Dean moaned, “Jesus, it’s more than enough. Just get the fuck inside me _now_ , Gabriel.”  
  
Gabriel, the bastard, snickered and planted a chaste kiss on his nose. “Getting impatient yet, Deano?”  
  
“Fuck you,” Dean bit out and snapped his head forward to bite Gabriel’s nose. He laughed when the other man yelped and drew back to rub it. “Or better yet, fuck _me_.”  
  
“Fine,” Gabriel sighed dramatically, as if it was a great sacrifice on his part, and aligned himself against Dean's entrance. He kept his eyes on Dean’s as he pushed in, slowly, not stopping until he bottomed out inside the other man.  
  
Dean’s breath hitched. It was a surprisingly intimate thing, keeping their eyes on each other. He felt strangely vulnerable like this, especially as the bottom.  
  
Maybe Gabriel noticed the flicker of hesitation, or maybe he was just awesome - Dean would have believed both - but his smile immediately warmed and he leaned forward. He didn’t kiss Dean, though, just breathed in the same air, his lips hovering millimeters away from the Winchester’s.   
  
“What,” Dean murmured at the twinkle in his lover’s eyes, holding on as Gabriel started to move.  
  
“Nothing much,” Gabriel replied. “You’re just really hot like this.”  
  
Dean huffed a laugh, and then Gabriel brushed his prostate and he let out a strangled moan. “Harder,” he gritted out. “I’m not made of fucking glass.”  
  
“Mmm, fucking glass,” Gabriel grinned and sped up, grinning at Dean. "Is that the porn version of 'the looking glass'?" Dean himself have rolled his eyes, if Gabriel hadn’t been so scarily good at hitting his prostate at every other stroke. Instead he just held on, nails digging into Gabriel’s back as they thrust, moaning.  
  
Soon, Gabriel was trembling and panting, his thrusts deeper and harder. “God, so-” he bit Dean’s lower lip briefly, “so close-”  
  
Dean keened, shaking every time Gabriel hit that sweet spot inside of him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled, a stream of swear words spilling out as he climbed toward the edge for the second time in an hour.  
  
“C’mon, Deano,” Gabriel murmured and grabbed Dean’s hard-on, flicking his thumb over the slit in time with his thrusts, and Dean was _gone._ He arched silently as he came a second time, the orgasm completely blindsiding him, and the clenching of his muscles made Gabriel spasm only moments after him.  
  
“Holy fuck,” Gabriel gasped out, slipping out of Dean and rolling over. They were heaving; both of them covered in sweat and come, but none of them could muster up the energy to get a wiping cloth. “That was awesome.”  
  
Dean muttered something vaguely affirmative and rolled onto his side, snuggling close to the other man.  
  
“Aw, Deano,” Gabriel chuckled, even as he curled closer as well. “You’re a snuggler. Who’d have known.”  
  
“Tell anyone and they’ll never find your body,” Dean mumbled, too tired and sated to even try to sound annoyed.  
  
Gabriel ‘hmm’ed and pressed a kiss to his hair. Then he went very still. Almost too still - he was barely moving or breathing at all.  
  
“Gabe?” Dean turned so he could see his lover’s face. “You okay, man?”  
  
Immediately Gabriel turned animate again, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. I just thought I’d try something.”  
  
“Try what?”  
  
“Honing.”  
  
“Huh?” but the Angel had gone still again. This time Dean laid still, watching the man’s expressionless face. Waiting.  
  
Something brushed against his consciousness. It wasn’t a touch, more like a… feeling? Like when you smell something that reminds you of something from your childhood. Dean frowned and focused on the feeling. It felt like vanilla, he realized. It wasn’t a smell, or a taste, just a feeling. A feeling of vanilla, and joy. There was joy.  
  
“Gabe?” Dean whispered, trying to grasp the whatever-it-was. “Is that you poking at me?”  
  
The vanilla feeling flared up, a little bit stronger than before. Dean closed his eyes and tried to relax, to focus only on the feeling. It glowed, in a way, even though he couldn’t see it. It just emanated a feeling of safety, and happiness. There was sadness too, but it was subdued. Mostly, though, there was love.  
  
Dean had always thought that the color of love would be red. Or, you know, the kind of pink that are on Valentine’s hearts or whatever. But this? This was… green. Mossy green. He had no idea how to explain that, because he still couldn’t see it, but it just _felt_ mossy green. And vanilla.  
  
He stretched out, with what he didn’t know, and pressed against the feeling. It flared again, and Dean heard Gabriel draw in a sharp breath next to him.  
  
They lay like that a long time, swirling around each other, getting to know the colors and textures of the feelings. After a while they stopped searching, and just _were_.  
  
“I love you,” Dean murmured, because he knew it was true. Judging by the bright flare of mossy green, Gabriel knew too.  
  
“I love you too,” Gabriel replied and brushed his lips against Dean’s.  
  
“Do I have a color?” Dean blurted out, and felt a bit stupid. “I mean, it feels like you have a color.”  
  
“And a smell,” Gabriel murmured back. “Yeah. You do.”  
  
“Oh.” Dean pressed his nose under the other man’s jaw and breathed. “You’re moss green.”  
  
Gabriel chuckled. “I am? Interesting. You are iron red.”  
  
“Really?” Dean frowned at that. Green seemed like a more… lovey color, in a way.  
  
Gabriel chuckled at that and let a hand trail down his arm. “It’s beautiful.”  
  
“You smell like vanilla,” Dean murmured back instead of ‘thank you’.  
  
“And you like apple pie,” Gabriel chuckled. “I am honestly not surprised.”  
  
Dean snorted out a tired laugh and burrowed further under the covers, one arm slung over Gabriel’s naked hip. The skin was blazingly hot to the touch.  
  


~*~

  
  
Dean and Gabriel tumbled out of the bed the next morning, peering out into the living room to find Sam still sleeping on the couch. They tiptoed into the bathroom and took a shower there, and Dean gave Gabriel a blowjob that caused Sam to glare half-heartedly at them over breakfast and complain about TMI.  
  
Dean saw right through it, though. Sam was ecstatic to have him back. “I love you too, Sasquatch,” he replied easily, stuffing his face with toast and giving his brother a wink.  
  
Sam huffed, but what little annoyance there had been in his glare dissipated and turned into fondness. ”So you’re feeling okay?” he asked instead.  
  
Dean nodded seriously, well aware of the dangers of resurrection ritual. “I feel like I’ve always been feeling,” he said. “I mean, we can’t really know until I’ve been around for a while, but I don’t think anything has changed.” He glanced over at Gabriel. “Well, nothing bad, anyway.”  
  
Sam caught his gaze and smirked.  
  
“Can it, baby bro.”  
  
Sam's smirk evolved into a grin, and Gabriel ignored the both of them. His leg firmly pressed against Dean’s under the table, though.  
  
The door to Sam’s bedroom opened, and two equally-mussed Angels shuffled out. “Good morning,” Balthazar said with a tired grin. Castiel smiled and sat down next to Dean, helping himself to the eggs.  
  
“Hey,” Dean nodded. It felt strangely natural, the five of them in the same room. It was a weird thought that they had actually never been before - at least not while all of them had been alive and conscious.  
  
“You feel okay, Bal?” Gabriel asked, and the younger Angel nodded.  
  
“Fit as a fiddle,” he replied cheerily and started munching his toast.  
  
“I haven’t noticed any irregularities,” Castiel chimed in, looking thoroughly content with the situation.  
  
“I bet you didn’t,” Dean muttered into his cup of coffee, smirking. Castiel stared at him and reddened. He looked almost nervous, before he noticed Dean’s smirk and relaxed visibly.  
  
Balthazar leaned over and took his brother’s hand, murmuring something into Castiel’s ear that neither of the other could hear. Judging by the way Castiel took a deep breath and nodded, eyes shiny even as he smiled broadly, Dean could guess what it was about.  
  
It had to be strange to be able to act like a ‘normal’ couple around people, especially if you’d been hiding parts of yourself for so many years. It was a feeling all of them could understand on some levels, being vigilantes. Even Castiel's wings were visible now, flared out loosely on each side of him, one of them draped around Balthazar's shoulders.  
  
“Me and Cas should look for an apartment,” Balthazar said after a moment’s silence. “Believe me, it’s been lovely staying in your apartment, Dean, but I’m afraid it might get a bit cramped.”  
  
“Not to mention not very soundproof,” Gabriel added cheerily.  
  
“Good point,” Sam muttered into his coffee cup, and Dean grinned.  
  
“Exactly,” Balthazar replied, amused. “So we’ll be off the entire day. I will also see if I can get another job at the hospital. I’m not gonna take yours, uncle,” he said and smiled at Gabriel.  
  
The two brothers finished breakfast quickly and left, leaving the two Winchesters and Gabriel to sit in silence and eat.  
  
“So, you took my old job?” Dean said, and Sam nodded. “You say I was dead?”  
  
Sam sighed. “That’s the problem, Dean. I did. They even attended the funeral. They know you’re dead.”  
  
Dean blinked, surprised. “What, they did? Who?”  
  
“Everyone, man,” Sam said and smiled sadly. “Bobby, Rufus, Jo, Ellen, Ash, Pam… Even Missouri showed.”  
  
“Really? I thought she hated me,” Dean chuckled.  
  
Sam smiled at that. “Actually,” he said, “it was pretty weird. She came over to me after the… ceremony,” he stumbled a bit over the word, “and told me that even though it looked pretty bleak then, there were better times ahead. When I told her how, she said she didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I didn't think much of it, not then, but...”  
  
Dean grinned at that. Missouri was possibly the only psychic Hunter he knew, except for Pam. “She always was a crazy old lady,” he said fondly.  
  
“So what do we do?” Sam sighed. “Do we need to move?”  
  
“We might have to,” Dean nodded.  
  
“Why?” Gabriel asked. “Why can’t you tell them?”  
  
Dean snorted. “Tell them? They’re normal people, Gabe, except for Pam and Missouri. I don’t want them dragged into this shit.”  
  
“How can you know?” Gabriel replied. “I mean, for all you know they could be Hunters or Demons. Everyone either wears a mask or Shifts anyway. Besides, these are real friends of yours. Believe me, man. I was there.”  
  
Dean looked dubious.  
  
Sam smiled at the Angel. “Actually, Gabriel ended up comforting Ellen,” he said. “That was an interesting sight. She was taller than him.”  
  
“Was not,” Gabriel pouted.  
  
Dean laughed.  
  


~*~

  
  
“It’s over there,” Gabriel murmured and pointed. Dean noticed a grey grave stone with a patch of fresh dirt in front of it. “So you actually dug us back up, huh,” he said quietly.  
  
Gabriel nodded.  
  
“Harsh.”  
  
Gabriel forced out a strangled laugh. “That’s not a strong enough word, man.”  
  
Dean sent him a sad smile, and contemplated for a few seconds before he thought ‘fuck it all’ and grabbed Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel squeezed back, and then they were over by the grave stone.  
  
“ ‘All men's souls are immortal, but the souls of the righteous are immortal and divine’.” Dean looked over at Gabriel. “You picked this out?”  
  
Gabriel nodded, eyes full of haunted memories. “It fit,” he said quietly.  
  
Dean leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to the man’s cheek. Gabriel sucked in a harsh breath before letting it out slowly.  
  
“I see you weren’t kidding about the M&M’s,” Dean said. Spread in between the wilting flowers, seemingly without a pattern, were several brightly colored pieces of the candy.  
  
Gabriel huffed out a laugh. “How the hell could I come up with a lie like that, man?” he replied.  
  
Dean laughed quietly. “Come on,” he murmured and turned around. “Let’s go home. I’ve been spending too much time among dead people.”  
  
Gabriel kept close to him the entire walk home. Dean appreciated it.  
  


~*~

  
Castiel and Balthazar slept in Sam’s room the following night as well, and Dean and Gabriel shared Dean’s bed. That would probably (hopefully) be a regular thing from now on. Sam was grumpy in the morning from sleeping at a too-small couch, but when Balthazar grinned and offered him a spare place in his and Castiel’s bed, the younger Winchester blushed and went quiet. Dean knew that Sam had known about Bal and Cas’ strange relationship for a while, and like with everything else, Sam took all aspects of a situation into consideration before making up his mind. After just a day around Balthazar and Castiel while they were together had made Sam warm up to them considerably, but he still got a bit uncomfortable whenever it was vaguely brought up.  
  
It seemed to make Castiel nervous on Sam’s behalf, but Dean tried to do it as often as possible just to see Sam’s expression. It was pretty priceless staring at Sam’s ‘I’m not thinking about the two of you having sex, I swear’ face.  
  
Dean still hadn’t talked to Bobby or anyone else. He had been keeping inside his apartment with Gabriel, mostly, just in case someone would see him. He kept up with Righteous’ stuff on his computer as much as he could, but he hadn’t had any direct meetings with anyone yet. They weren’t sure what they were going to do - they could always introduce Dean as a friend of the family when he had shifted, but it would be hard to pull off in the long haul. So for now, Dean stayed inside.  
  
At the moment, he was slicing onions while Balthazar was frying some chicken for dinner. Castiel hummed contentedly to himself as he grate cheese, Sam and Gabriel watched TV in the living room, and it was all so domestic and ‘normal’ it made Dean feel a bit dizzy.  
  
Maybe that was why the knife slipped and he sliced his finger. “Ouch! Fuck,” Dean muttered and stuck his finger into his mouth, sucking on it. It was just a small cut, not even needing to get sewed up, but it hurt a bit and bled like fingers always do.  
  
“Are you alright?” Castiel asked, walking over.  
  
“Yeah, just cut myself,” Dean mumbled around the finger.  
  
“Here, I’ll heal it for you,” Balthazar said and stretched out a hand. Shrugging, Dean showed him the bleeding finger and the other man curled his fingers around it. It really wasn’t a big deal, but it was never fun to get blood in your food.  
  
Balthazar removed his hand, and the finger kept bleeding. The Angel frowned and curled his fingers around it again, frowning. Nothing happened. “This is odd.”  
  
“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked.  
  
“It won’t heal,” Balthazar said. He was staring down at Dean’s bloody finger, and then he paled at the exact same moment a horrifying thought struck down in Dean’s head.  
  
“Fuck no,” he said, and the look Balthazar gave him was nothing short but panicked.  
  
“It can’t-” he gasped out, as pale as a sheet.  
  
“Bal?” Castiel asked. “What’s wrong?” He put a hand on the trembling Angel’s shoulder.  
  
Dean closed his eyes, prayed to God his suspicion wasn’t right, and shifted - the first time he'd done that since he got resurrected. He opened his eyes and stared at Balthazar, who shook his head. “Fuck,” Dean whispered. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”  
  
By now, Gabriel and Sam knew something was wrong. “Dean?” Gabriel asked. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  
  
“Our powers,” Dean gasped out, fighting the urge to throw up. “They’re gone.”  
  
“What?” Gabriel and Sam looked equally horrified, and Balthazar swayed on his feet.  
  
“I tried to heal Dean,” Balthazar wheezed. “Nothing happened.”  
  
“Dean, are you sure?” Gabriel asked.  
  
“Do you fucking think I’m lying?!” Dean yelled, way too loud. He flinched at the volume in his voice and turned around, stalked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, locking the door. Then he slumped down on the floor and tried to breathe.  
  
He was Righteous. He dealt with everyone; the only self-defense he had was the fact that no one knew who he really was. Without the ability to shift, he couldn’t do the job. It would be too dangerous. He had too much information that no one else had.  
  
That meant a life at the Auto Shop. Except he couldn’t go back there either, because he was dead. He’d have to leave this town; leave Sam and Bal and Cas. Maybe Gabriel would follow him, but then again, Gabriel had his family here now. He’d want to stay.  
  
Dean hid his head in his hands as his world crumbled around him.  
  


~*~

  
“He refuses to come out,” Castiel sighed and flopped down on the couch. He’d been standing by the door to Sam’s room for the last half hour, trying to get Balthazar to let him in, but finally gave up when he couldn't even get a verbal response from the man inside. Gabriel, who had been sitting by the bathroom door, had evidently reached the same conclusion.  
  
“What are we going to do if it’s true?” Gabriel asked. “If their powers are really gone?”  
  
Castiel swallowed. The thought terrified him. That Balthazar could get seriously injured somehow, and he wouldn’t be able to fix himself. That _no one_ would be able to fix him, because Castiel wasn’t a powerful healer at all. His wings twitched miserably. “I don’t know,” he whispered.  
  
“I don’t think there is much we can do,” Sam sighed and rubbed his face. He had, as the only one who didn’t have a partner to try (and fail) to soothe, been checking up their problem on the Internet. Apparently, it had happened in a few cases where people with powers had suddenly lost them. Not by resurrection, but by something else - usually trauma of some kind. Judging by the defeated look he was wearing, nothing helpful had come up. “I’ll guess we’ll just have to give it time and see what happens.”  
  
“They can’t help us,” Gabriel said hoarsely, and Castiel knew what he meant. “On the job. It’s too dangerous now for them. They’re practically civilians.”  
  
“Oh, please,” Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Balthazar and Dean have been stuck with this life since they were children. No matter how fragile they seem, they will never be civilians, Gabriel.” His face was stormy when his gaze went back to the computer. “I thought you guys knew them better than that,” he muttered.  
  
Castiel could feel himself shrink. “We know that, Sam,” he tried, “but that doesn’t mean-”  
  
“It’s not me you need to tell that to,” Sam cut him off stiffly. “It’s them.” And then he proceeded to ignore them both.  
  
Castiel and Gabriel shifted awkwardly, both of them looking contrite. Sam was right, in a way. So were they. But Castiel had never seen Sam truly angry before, at least not anger directed at them. It was strange that this little discussion would elicit such a strong reaction from the taller Winchester, but then again, there was a good probability he was just projecting his brother’s anger at the hopeless situation.   
  
Sam had to know how worthless Dean must be feeling right now.  
  
They waited another four hours, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slow, finishing making the food they’d started to prepare and putting it all in the fridge to eat another day. Finally Sam got up and walked over to the door his brother was hiding behind. “Dean? Look, I’m sorry, man, but I really need to use the bathroom.”  
  
It was quiet for maybe half a minute before they heard shuffling sounds. When Dean opened the door he didn’t meet any of their gazes, just kept his eyes at the floor. They were red-rimmed, and he didn’t even acknowledge his brother who murmured “Thanks, Dean,” and slipped into the bathroom.  
  
Gabriel rose. “Dean-”  
  
Dean walked across the living room without as much as a glance in their direction, went into the other bedroom and locked the door after him.  
  
“Fuck!” Gabriel shouted and kicked one of the armchairs. It creaked loudly and moved a few inches.  
  
“I’m sure it will be better in the morning,” Castiel sighed. “At least I hope it will.”  
  
Gabriel just nodded and sat back down in the armchair, curling in on himself and closed his eyes. Castiel sighed again and got a few blankets from the cupboard in the tiny hallway. He spread them out on the floor and lay down there, shifting and trying to find a slightly comfortable position.  
  
He failed.  
  


~*~

  
  
Castiel was woken abruptly the next morning by a door creaking open. He sat up, wincing at the pain in his back and neck, and realized it was Dean’s door that was open. The Winchester was walking out with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a thoroughly miserable expression on his face. When he met Castiel’s gaze, he gestured for him to be quiet.  
  
Dean was leaving. He was leaving all of them without even telling, because he’d lost his powers.  
  
“Fuck that,” Castiel replied loudly, and Sam and Gabriel startled awake with similar yelps.  
  
Dean glared at him. “I fucking hate you, Cas.”  
  
Sam squinted at his brother. “Hey, Dean! You’re-” he noticed the duffel bag, and his expression immediately changed from relief to disappointment. “-leaving,” he finished slowly. “Goddammit, Dean.”  
  
“Don’t fucking start on me, Sammy,” Dean growled.  
  
“Don’t fucking ‘Sammy’ me,” Sammy snarled back.  
  
“You’re leaving?” Gabriel gaped. “Just like that? And you were just gonna sneak out too, like a goddamn coward?”  
  
Dean actually flinched at that. “I didn’t-”  
  
“I can’t believe you,” Gabriel spat. “You were running off with your tail between your legs.” He shook his head and rubbed a hand across his face. “And they called you Righteous.” There wasn’t any emotion behind it, but Dean still looked like he’d been slapped.  
  
“Well, I’m not Righteous anymore, am I?” he replied coldly. “So you have no use for me.”  
  
“No use for- oh, come _on_ , Dean!” Sam yelled. “Are you really that stupid?”  
  
“Yeah, apparently I am.” But Dean seemed to slump a little where he stood. “Look,” he said quietly, “I just got you back, Sam. This is your city. You can be Sight again. And…” he swallowed. “You guys have my computer. You know most of my contacts. Gabriel could shift and meet the clients; they’ve never seen me anyway. And Cas, you and Balthazar could go back to working at the hospital.”  
  
“Oh, yes,” Castiel replied. “Although you forget the fact that he’s in the _exact same position as you._ ”  
  
“Bal’s got you,” Dean replied instantly.  
  
Everything was quiet for a few seconds as the three men processed that tiny bit of information.  
  
Then Gabriel got out of the armchair he’d been sleeping in, walked into the hallway, grabbed his shoes and walked out of the apartment wearing just his pajamas and his coat.  
  
“Gabe?” Dean called and got no answer. “Wait, don’t-”  
  
The door slammed shut.  
  
“I didn’t mean,” Dean replied and looked like a kicked puppy.  
  
Castiel snorted, unimpressed. “Of course you did. That was _exactly_ what you meant.”  
  
Dean looked even more miserable than a few minutes before, and Castiel felt even less sorry for him. Dean glanced at the door, then at the two other men in the room. Sam looked furious, but didn’t say a word.  
  
“Well, no way am  _I_ going after him,” Castiel said when no one else said anything. “This is your mess to clean up.”  
  
Dean blinked, surprised at his words and tone.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered and dragged himself towards the front door. “I always fuck things up.”  
  
“Then you should know by now that that has nothing to do with your powers,” Castiel replied sharply.  
  
Sam remained stoic and silent, sitting in the couch. He followed his brother with his eyes.  
  
“Just… Tell Bal I said bye, okay?” Dean tried, a hand on the doorknob.  
  
“Why should I?” Castiel bit out. “You didn’t say bye to us.”  
  
“I didn’t-” Dean swallowed and just nodded. “Okay. Fine.” He grabbed the car keys that hung on the wall, but they were yanked out of his hand by an invisible force and floated over to Sam. “Sam. Quit it, it’s not fucking funny.”  
  
“No, it’s not funny at all,” Sam said evenly. “I just don’t appreciate you trying to steal my car.”  
  
“What the fuck?” Dean barked out. “The Impala’s mine!”  
  
“No,” Sam said and sent his brother a grim smile. “Because she used to belong to my brother, and he died four months ago. So I inherited it.”  
  
Dean opened his mouth, then shut it again. Now he just looked defeated. “Bye, Cas,” he said quietly and sent Castiel an apologetic look. “Bye, Sammy.”  
  
Neither of them answered.  
  
The door clicked shut, and the two men sat in silence.  
  
Then Sam said “one.”  
  
“Two,” Castiel replied.  
  
“Three.”  
  
Castiel’s wings flared out in their entire span, shaking with anger and sadness and the fierce pain of betrayal. Sam buckled over, clutching his head, as various objects started flying around the room with rapid speed. The mirror on the wall shattered into a thousand pieces.  
  


~*~

  
As much as he ached to get out of town, to just get this over and done with, Dean knew he couldn’t leave Gabriel in the state of mind he was in. He refused to listen to the part of his brain that was screaming ‘what the fuck are you doing, they need you, go back to them’. They didn’t; he was dead weight to them now. Sure, they still cared about him, but with all the other shit going on in their lives they really didn’t need to haul along a random powerless person. Balthazar was different; he and Cas were brothers and soul mates. They were made for each other, everyone could see that.  
  
He and Gabriel…  
  
Dean sighed and walked down another street, scanning the crowd on auto-pilot for his ex-boyfriend. He loved Gabriel. He did. Just the thought of leaving him made Dean want to curl up and die, because he had no idea what the fuck he would do when he was alone again.  
  
He’d spent the last four years alone, and they had been the worst four years of his entire existence.  
  
But he had to. If he stuck around, Gabriel would stay with him out of pity, because he knew how important the powers were to Dean. And Dean couldn’t clip Gabriel’s wings like that. Refused to. He loved Gabriel too much.  
  


~*~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Dean is an idiot, drunk!character and language.

It wasn’t until hours later that Dean found Gabriel. Even without using his powers - the powers he no longer had - he could still call his contacts and get out some feelers. Luckily for him, Gabriel hadn’t shifted. He eventually got a phone call from a Demon bartender he’d known for a while - Casey, sweet girl, made a hell of a Hurricane - who told him that a short guy with chestnut hair, pajamas and a coat, and the most miserable expression she’d ever seen had just walked into her bar and ordered a double shot of Bailey’s.  
  
“That’s him. Thank you so much, Casey,” Dean said and immediately hailed a cab. He didn’t have much money, but he could always hustle some pool when he was good and out of this city. It wouldn’t be the first time Dean had been in a tough spot financially. “Make sure you keep him there ‘till I get over, okay? Even if you have to buy him drinks. I’ll pay for them.”  
  
“You’re good to go, Dean,” she replied calmly. “Get over here and find you client.” She hung up, and Dean asked the driver if they could go any faster.  
  
It took another fifteen minutes before the driver pulled up by the entrance of the little pub - A Tale of Sin Cities - and Dean jumped out after slamming a twenty on the dashboard. He zipped up his leather jacket before he went in, trying to attract as little attention as possible.  
  
He noticed Gabriel right away. He was sitting in a corner booth, nursing his drink, eyes staring at nothing. Even in just those few hours, he looked so much worse, Dean mused. He was clearly drunk, and every now and then he rubbed at his face hard enough to leave pink, blotchy marks.  
  
Dean walked over and slid in next to him, effectively trapping the other man in between himself and the wall. “I’m sorry, Gabriel.”  
  
Gabriel flinched as if he’d been struck, and stubbornly kept his gaze down. He didn’t even answer.  
  
“I didn’t mean- when I said that about Balthazar, I just meant that Cas needs him,” Dean tried. “It wasn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  
  
“You did,” was the curt answer he got.  
  
“Then I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”  
  
Gabriel didn’t answer, just downed the rest of his drink in one go.  
  
“How much have you been drinking?” Dean sighed.  
  
“Tell me,” Gabriel said suddenly, in that slightly-too-loud voice most people get when they’re angry and wasted. He swayed a little. “Do I really mean so little to you? Because man, could’a used the warning earlier, y’know.”  
  
“What?” Dean asked, confused. “No.”  
  
“Because _obviously_ ,” Gabriel spat out with so much weight behind that one word his head actually dipped forward, “you’d have to just not give a fuck to do exactly what y’re doing now.”  
  
Dean sighed. “What, Gabriel? What am I doing?”  
  
Gabriel let out a lost, little giggle and sniffed. “You ought’a know. It’s you who’s doin’ it.”  
  
Dean rubbed his face. “I assume you’re still talking about my going away, then.”  
  
“No,” Gabriel said sternly. “I’m talkin' about you lyin' to my face. I’m talkin' about you leaving, and pressin' a fucking knife in my heart and fuckin' _twisting it around_ , but right now, I’m mostly talking about you lookin’ me in the eye and fuckin' lying to my face.”  
  
“When did I lie to your face?” Dean asked.  
  
And for the first time since he sat down in the pub, Gabriel turned around and looked him straight in the eyes. “When you said I was 'nough. That you weren’t going anywhere.”  
  
Dean’s mouth was already open, the excuses (reasons, goddammit) on the tip of his tongue - but he couldn’t say it. Not when Gabriel was looking at him like Dean had just blown his whole word to smithereens, like _he_ was the one that had been stripped of his powers and not Dean.  
  
And Dean remembered. Their first night, how they’d held onto each other, how Gabriel had kissed him like he’d never get the chance again, how Dean had whispered against his mouth that he wasn’t going anywhere, Gabriel, just relax.  
  
Dean felt vaguely ill. “Gabriel…”  
  
“So you just wanted t' get in my pants, was that it?” Gabriel interrupted him, scrunching his face in a distorted mask of confusion. He was about ten seconds away from crying, Dean realized with faint horror.  
  
“What? No, I didn’t-”  
  
“Because then I think you might’s overcomp'sated a bit,” Gabriel slurred and twirled his empty shot glass. It fell over and rolled off the table, but didn’t shatter. “Could’a just asked me. I’m a pretty easy lay.”  
  
“Jesus, Gabe, Don’t-” Dean didn’t know what to say. “It wasn’t lies. I never lied. I just- I can’t stay. I’m a liability now, without my powers. I won’t let you drag me around, getting hurt just so you won’t hurt my feelings. Fuck that. I know what I gotta do.”  
  
“What the fuck?” Gabriel said, lips curling around the swear word. “What the fuck led you to that conclusion, man?”  
  
“If you love someone, you’ll let them go,” Dean replied quietly. “I’m not doing this to hurt you, Gabriel.”  
  
Gabriel considered him for a minute. Then he clocked Dean square in the jaw.  
  
“Ow! Fuck!” Dean's face hurt like a motherfucker.  
  
“Oh, was that painful?” Gabriel asked, too-wide eyes blinking faux-innocently at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to _hurt_ you.”  
  
“That’s not the fucking same!” Dean yelled. His face was throbbing.  
  
“It fucking feels like it!” Gabriel yelled back, and the whole bar was officially staring at them now.  
  
“Gabe,” Dean gritted out, “let’s go outside. People are staring.”  
  
“What? You bothered ‘cause they can see the real you?” Gabriel spat.  
  
“Please. Just come with me.” Dean grabbed his ex-boyfriend’s hand and dragged him outside. For once, Gabriel didn't fight him on it, just followed with clumsy, uncoordinated steps.  
  
“There, 's this better?” he said as soon as they get out. “No one to see your lil' tantrum.”  
  
“Jesus, Gabe, don’t do this,” Dean muttered and rubbed his face, wincing.  
  
“Do what, Dean? What? Embarrass you?” Gabriel stumbled over to him, grinning humorlessly. “Are you ashamed of me, Winch'ster?”  
  
“No,” Dean whispered. “Never.” He lifted a hand to touch Gabriel.  
  
“No! _No_!” Gabriel barked out and stepped back, nearly toppling over. He clutched at his head. “Now you’re doin' it again, pr'tending you fucking care! Stop it!”  
  
“Gabe, I do-”  
  
“Stop it!” Gabriel screeched, and they were lucky there were no one else on the street there with them, because Gabriel was just getting louder and more hysterical by the minute. “You’re _leavin'!”_  
  
“It’s for the best, Gabriel,” Dean reasoned. “I’m doing this to help you!”  
  
“How’s this fucking ‘elping?” Gabriel asked. He couldn’t seem to fix his gaze on Dean, and he swayed so badly he eventually toppled to the ground and sat there instead. “If you leave I’ll be alone,” he said, staring at the pavement. “I can’t do this ‘lone. Been ‘lone twelve years, man, I can’t- not anymore. Won’t.” He sniffled miserably.  
  
“Jesus, Gabriel, how drunk are you?” Dean asked softly and sat down next to his friend.  
  
“Drunk ‘nough,” Gabriel replied and rubbed at his eyes like a child would. “Bye, Dean.”  
  
“Bye?”  
  
“You’re leavin'. You hate me. I don’ blame you.” Gabriel made a gesture that could maybe be considered a shrug. “Go have fun.”  
  
“Gabriel, I don’t hate you. That’s ridiculous.”  
  
“Why shou’nt you? Makes sense. ‘S why you’re leaving.”  
  
“No, I just _told_ you-”  
  
But Gabriel shook his head. “No, see, ‘cause you _lie_ ,” he hissed viciously. “Only pr'mise you ever gave me and you _lied_.”  
  
Dean groaned. “Gabriel, I can’t talk when you’re drunk like this.”  
  
“Fine. Go. Shoo.” Gabriel waved him off, still sitting there on the pavement like an overgrown baby.  
  
Dean stood up to see if there was a cab nearby. He had to take Gabriel home and get him to bed. It was barely noon, so it shouldn’t be a big problem finding a free one.  
  
“What I _don’t_ get, tho,” Gabriel got out, his slurring worsening by the minute, “’s how you found me. I din’t give any name anywhere ‘n I’ve been movin’ around all day tryin’ to ‘void you.”  
  
“It wasn’t very hard, to be honest,” Dean replied, looking for a cab. He saw one far away and waved, hoping it would see him. “All I did was to take a few phone calls, tell people to stay on the alert.”  
  
“An’ you st'll think you’re n' of any use,” Gabriel mumbled, eyes drooping.  
  
The cab drove over and stopped right in front of them. “Anyone can do that job, Gabe,” Dean huffed and grabbed one of his arms. “C’mon, let’s get you up.”  
  
“No, n’t erryone can do that job,” Gabriel frowned, and staggered to his feet. “ ‘cause it’s not just ‘bout 'nformashinn, see. ’s ab't knowin' people. 'bout knowin' how to know people who know people...” Gabriel frowned. "Who... know people."  
  
“Gabe, you’re not making sense,” Dean sighed and climbed in next to him.  
  
“You’re the Right'ous Man, Dean,” Gabriel said, miserable, glassy eyes turning to him. “’s why you’re you. ‘Cause you’re right'ous and people c'n trust you. You’re the good guy.” He blinked slowly, his eyelids drooping further. “Tha’s got nothin' to do with your powers, man. Tha’s just shullbit.” Another frown. "Full- bullshit. 's bullshit."  
  
Dean startled a bit at that. “You’re righteous like that, Gabriel,” he replied quietly. “You could do my job with no problem.”  
  
But Gabriel shook his head solemnly. “No, see, tha’s where you’re _wrong_. I’m not, not like you are.” Gabriel blinked slowly at him. “You _make_ me right’ous, Dean. I do stuff tha’s right ‘cause _you_ do stuff tha’s right.” He sniffled again, eyes brimming with tears, and rubbed at his face like a little kid who didn't want their mommy to see they've been crying.  
  
It broke Dean’s heart to see him so different from the proud, beautiful man he usually was. “Gabriel,” he murmured.  
  
“No! Don’t-” Gabriel turned away, taking sharp breaths. He was shaking with the force to keep himself in check, Dean noticed. He wanted so badly to comfort him.  
  
He hated causing Gabriel pain. He hated that it was necessary. “I’ll only keep you back, Gabriel,” he murmured, desperately willing his friend to _understand_. “I’ll only end up getting you hurt.”  
  
“Wha',” Gabriel croaked out, “m're hurt than I am _now_? ‘Cause I don’ think I c’n handle tha', Dean.” He slumped down with his face in Dean’s lap, on hand gripping his jeans leg tightly. “Hurts,” he wheezed and shuddered bodily.  
  
“It’s gonna be okay,” Dean whispered, to himself as much as to Gabriel. “As soon as I’m gone, it’s gonna be okay.”  
  
“No,” Gabriel sniffled. “ ‘snot. Alw'ys 'urts when you leave, n'ver stops hurtin'…” He sobbed, and Dean felt chilled.  
  
“Gabriel, this isn’t like when you-” he couldn’t even finish the sentence. But it wasn’t, okay? Gabriel left because he couldn’t deal with the pain. The loss of his brothers. Dean was leaving because it was the better option, because he couldn’t stay around and-  
  
Dean swallowed. _Because he couldn’t deal with the pain._  
  
It wasn’t the same. It wasn't.  
  
Then Gabriel whispered something that made Dean’s blood run cold. “Dean, ‘m I your Lucifer? ‘m I the reason everythin’s just…” he made a helpless gesture.  
  
Dean curled around the smaller man. “God, no, Gabriel. You could never be. Never.” He pressed his face against the Angel’s tear-stained one.  
  
“I jus' want to be ‘nough,” Gabriel wheezed. “’s never enough.”  
  
“Fuck, Gabriel, I am so sorry,” Dean whispered. This, everything, it was so wrong. All wrong. “I’m meant to keep you safe. That’s why.”  
  
“How’you gonna k'p me safe if I’m ‘lone,” Gabriel mumbled, and it wasn’t even a question at this point.  
  
“’Cause then I can’t hurt you,” Dean said and wiped away his own stupid tears. He didn’t even know what he was trying to say anymore.  
  
“You _are_ ,” Gabriel wheezed, his quiet, almost inaudible sobs wracking his small body. “I l've you and you’re hurtin' me.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Dean kissed his cheek, his temple, the corner of his mouth, while his jeans turned tear-stained. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“'urts,” Gabriel croaked, and then he fell asleep and stayed that way for the rest of the cab drive.  
  
Dean kept his head down, protectively curled around the Angel to protect him from the world. Even if Gabriel didn’t need that. The world didn’t hurt Gabriel, the only thing that messed with him now was Dean. Dean, who had ripped up decade-old wounds in his fit of self-centered idiocy. “Fuck,” he whispered.  
  


~*~

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” Dean murmured and hoisted Gabriel over his shoulder. He was strong enough, and Gabriel was the perfect size for it. The other man didn’t wake up. Dean carried him up the stairs, thankful that his apartment was on the second floor and not the eighth, and knocked on the door.  
  
Castiel opened it, arching a cold eyebrow at him.  
  
“Please, just…” Dean hung his head. “I’m sorry. About everything. I just need to get Gabriel to bed.”  
  
Castiel stepped aside without saying a word.  
  
Dean blinked when he got into the living room. The mirror he’d bought seven years ago was shattered, and some of the minor stuff and pictures he had seemed to have moved while he was gone. “Sam?”  
  
“He went out to get some air,” Castiel replied from behind him.  
  
“Okay.” Dean walked into his (and Gabriel’s) bedroom and put the sleeping man gently down on top of the covers. He stripped Gabriel of his pajamas, coat and shoes, noticing for the first time how cold the other man was, before tucking him in. He turned off the lights and closed the door quietly after himself.  
  
He turned around only to find himself eye to eye with Castiel. “Are you still leaving?” the Angel asked. His wings were splayed out in an aggressive posture, the bottom feathers bristling slightly. Like this, he seemed a lot bigger than Dean - and Sam. His bright-blue eyes blazed.  
  
Dean swallowed. “No, I- I can’t.” He didn’t meet the other’s gaze, but felt its sting all the same.  
  
“Why not?” It was just as sharp and cold as before.  
  
“Because of Gabriel.”  
  
“What’s with Gabriel?”  
  
“He… hurts without me.”  
  
“But you don’t?” Castiel cocked his head at him, eyes still blazing. “You’re just gonna stick with him out of pity, because he’s too weak to handle himself? Because if you don’t, he’ll ending up getting hurt, is that it?”  
  
“No!” Dean replied. “God, I would never- look, it’s not about pity, okay. It’s- I love him. It’s as simple as that.”  
  
“Then why would do you just leave?” Castiel asked, just as coldly but not quite as loud.  
  
“Because,” Dean huffed, “it wouldn’t be fair to Gabriel.”  
  
“Because you wouldn’t have your powers,” Castiel said quietly.  
  
“Yeah, I-” Dean rubbed a hand across his face. “Yeah.”  
  
“And then he would just stick with you out of pity,” Castiel said calmly, a pointed edge to his words now, “because you’d be too weak to handle yourself. Because he’d think that if he didn’t, you’d _end up getting hurt_.” He crossed his arms and flapped his wings, just once. “I’m giving you five seconds to connect the dots, Winchester.”  
  
Dean wanted to punch himself. “Shit, I- fuck. _Fuck_.”  
  
“Yes,'fuck',” Castiel snapped. “I think that is an accurate description.” He frowned at Dean. “Is that a bruise on your chin?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Gabriel punched me.” He hesitated. “He was fully entitled to.”  
  
“No words from you could make me believe otherwise,” Castiel replied and turned away from him. “I’ll be in Sam’s bedroom, because contrary to your belief, you are actually not the only person who has trouble adjusting to your new lifestyle.”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Dean said weakly. “Tell… tell Bal I said hi?”  
  
Castiel turned to him. “Sure. I will.”  
  
Then Dean was alone in the living room, and after a moment’s mental self- beating, he got a bucket from the cupboard under his sink. Then he walked back into his own bedroom and put the bucket next to Gabriel, before he undressed and slipped under the covers next to the other man.  
  
“I’m sorry, baby,” Dean whispered, and Gabriel frowned in his sleep and curled closer to him. “I’m gonna find some way to redeem myself to you.” He kissed the man’s forehead, and Gabriel made a small sound. “I mean it.”  
  


~*~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: brief mention of a child death.

  
  
****

Epilogue  
(six months later)

****  
  
“And that’s gonna be… yeah, that’s alright,” Dean mumbled and wrote down a set of numbers on his notepad. “Thanks. Yeah, I’ll be in touch. Yeah, you too.” He hung up and scribbled down a note beneath the numbers, and then stuck it in an envelope and hung it up on the already-full pin board.  
  
There was a knock on his door. “Come in,” Dean mumbled absently and tried to find the goddamn note with Isaac’s number on it.  
  
“Hey,” Gabriel said as he stuck his head in. “Are you ready? Movie starts in five.”  
  
“Oh, shit. Yeah, yeah- I’ll be right out.” Dean swore under his breath. “You don’t know where I put the note with Isaac’s number on it, do you?”  
  
“I’m pretty sure you threw it away after saving it on your BlackBerry,” Gabriel replied with a grin.  
  
Dean frowned. “I never put in stuff on that shit.”  
  
“Or you super-awesome boyfriend did it for you.”  
  
Dean turned around in his chair, sighing in relief. “Thank you. Fuck, Tamara would have killed me if I’d lost it.” He rose from his chair, stretching and wincing at the soreness in his back, and then hauled Gabriel close and into a kiss. “Mm, you taste like cinnamon.”  
  
Gabriel chuckled against his mouth. “Sam bought cinnamon rolls for all of us. I saved you one.”  
  
“Best boyfriend,” Dean groaned and followed the Angel out in the kitchen, walking by the stairs to the second floor and the dining room. It was so much easier for them all, now, having a bigger space to share. “Where is it?”  
  
Gabriel went over to the oven and pulled out the still-hot cinnamon roll.  
  
Dean tasted one of them, and made an obscene noise of pleasure. “Gabe,  <i>seriously</i>.”  
  
“I know,” Gabriel chuckled. “But you can’t keep making those noises, Deano. Because then I’d be forced to take you right here, right now, and we promised Cas.”  
  
Dean sighed and stuffed the rest of the roll into his mouth, even as a pleasant shiver ran through him at Gabriel's words. The two of them went through the dining room into the living room, where Sam, Castiel and Balthazar already sat in the bigger of the two couches. “You’re just in time,” Castiel admonished.  
  
“Wouldn’t miss movie night for the world, Cas,” Dean murmured, and the youngest Angel sent him a grateful look. He flopped down in the smaller couch, Gabriel next to him. “Which one?”  
  
“Pride and Prejudice,” Sam said cheerfully.  
  
Dean couldn’t quite hold back his initial groan, but after a second’s tough fight he managed to put a forced smile on his face. “That sounds just… awesome.”  
  
Castiel snorted. “We’re watching Death Proof, Dean. Don’t worry.”  
  
“Oh, fuck _yeah_ , that’s more like it,” Dean said and happily accepted the beer Balthazar gave him. “Cheers, Bal.”  
  
“Cheers,” Balthazar said quietly, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. “To… good health.” He swallowed and turned his eyes to the screen.  
  
Castiel’s eyes flared with pain for one second, but he hid it well. Instead he leaned closer to his brother and kissed his cheek, and Balthazar slumped a little so he could relax against the other man. “You’re alright,” Castiel whispered, putting an arm around him, and Balthazar nodded slowly as if he wanted to believe, but couldn’t.  
  
Sam, on Balthazar’s other side, put his arm around the blond Angel's shoulders and squeezed. His hand brushed against Castiel's neck, and he kept it like that.  
  
They watched the movie mostly in silence, except for Dean’s string of comments about the general awesomeness of Tarantino and grindhouse movies. The four of them kept a pretty close eye on Balthazar, even if they were subtle about it, and Castiel never stopped touching him. Sam kept close as well.  
  
Balthazar had always taken it hard whenever he’d lost a patient. The worst ones now were people he could have saved if he’d still had his powers intact. This one had been a twelve-year old girl with meningitis.  
  
Dean got it. He got it completely. He was doing okay dealing with the loss, because he still had the foundations of his old persona intact. He missed being able to shift, and to move the occasional item with the power of his mind, but he was okay. Balthazar, however, had been using his power constantly. Dean knew that Castiel practiced his healing all the time, but it still didn’t negate the fact that it was his secondary power. He would never be as powerful as Balthazar had once been.  
  
“I’m knackered,” said Angel exclaimed when the movie was done. “I think I'm off to bed.” He gave them a haunted smile. “I had a lovely evening.” They all understood the implied _I’m doing as well as I can at the moment, and you are amazing for putting up with me._  
  
“Yeah, it was awesome,” Dean grinned and winked at him.  
  
“Do you want us to go with you?” Castiel murmured, Sam hovering near the two of them.  
  
“If you’re not doing anything important,” Balthazar replied quietly, which was pretty much Balthazar’s way of telling Cas he was terrified of being left alone with his head right now.  
  
“We’re gonna go to bed,” Sam said and smiled softly at Gabriel and Dean. “See you guys tomorrow.”  
  
“Have fun sleeping,” Gabriel said and waved the three of them off. Then he rose from the couch and started turning off the lights.  
  
“Meningitis, huh,” Dean murmured as he put away the dirty plates left on the table.  
  
Gabriel nodded solemnly. “Bal always had a heart bigger than he could afford to have,” he sighed. They both walked upstairs and headed to their bedroom, hearing subdued voices from the opposite end of the hall where the other bedroom was.  
  
Dean shrugged off his clothes, Gabriel doing the same. They both slipped under the covers naked, seeking out each other’s warmth immediately.  
  
“So,” Gabriel murmured when they found a comfortable position, his head resting on Dean’s chest. “Any particular reason you were speaking with Bela Talbot earlier today?”  
  
Dean frowned. “You heard that?” It had been on a secure line.  
  
“I might have listened at the door,” Gabriel said noncommittally. “Just a little.”  
  
Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah, no, just the same,” he admitted.  
  
Gabriel turned on his side. “Any progress?”  
  
“Barely,” Dean sighed. “She might be able to get a hold of an amulet that should help.”  
  
“Amulet? Isn’t that kinda…”  
  
“Risky?” Dean huffed. “Fuck yeah. Which is why I’m sending Andy on a mission to spy on her.”  
  
“Ah,” Gabriel grinned. “Conning a con-woman.”  
  
Dean chuckled, but didn’t say anything else.  
  
“Do you think it will work?” Gabriel asked quietly.  
  
“I don’t know. It’s a specific amulet,” Dean told him, carding his hands through Gabriel’s hair. “It’s specifically made for healing, so if anything should do the trick, this would be it. It might take her a while to get a hold of it, though.”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “Good thing Bal’s birthday’s in four months, then.”  
  
Dean smiled and kissed his boyfriend on the top of his head, before he closed his eyes. “Yeah. Good thing.”  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
 **THE END**  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
